Where The Heart Is
by snowflake912
Summary: The secret they share is only the buildup to an explosion of passion that rattles their lives. When shattering events spiral out of control, Derek takes a leap of faith, and he comes to learn that there is no mistaking where the heart is. MerDer during S2
1. Chapter One: The Secret

Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy (sadly).

Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure about this piece of fiction. My feelings bounced between like and serious dislike. Since it's my first attempt at GA fanfiction, I thought I'd give posting a shot. Please, don't hesitate to tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome as are any reviews of any sort. I hope you can find some enjoyment in it.

**Where The Heart Is**

**Chapter One: **_The Secret  
_"You could hide beside me,  
Maybe for a while.  
And I won't tell no one your name.  
I won't tell them your name."  
Name- Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

"So you like sex."

It was more of a statement than a question, and it made her smile a little. Her fingers loosened around the neck of the tall bottle as she tipped it against her lips, letting the liquid burn its path down her throat. Swallowing tightly, she stealthily glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes and knew that she was just drunk enough to beg.

Looking away, she licked her lips. "So I like sex," she answered deprecatingly.

She heard him chuckle softly, like the answer amused him. He wasn't drinking, and she envied him that particular privilege, having tried several times to temptingly dangle the bottle of vodka before his face. Every time he would shake his head and burrow his hands deeper into the pockets of his black jacket.

The racket drifting from the nearby party did little to ease the migraine threatening at her temples, which was why she'd escaped in the first place. She hadn't expected to be followed by the one person who wasn't in the party.

"And you're going to have sex," he continued slowly, turning his head towards her.

She met his indigo eyes evenly. The definite planes of his handsome face were shadowed in the moonlight. "And I'm going to have sex."

He didn't seem bothered by the admission, though that could have had something to do with the fact that she looked barely able to carry her own weight, much less spend a night of passionate lovemaking. "Tonight?" he prodded.

"Tonight," she affirmed with a giggle.

His brow furrowed in a deep frown. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, the sound of her laughter growing louder.

"Meredith?"

She reined it in long enough to stare into his indignant eyes. "What?"

There was an intimacy to the way his body leaned towards her, well out of reach but unnervingly close. The streetlights highlighted the fierceness in his steady stare. "Let's have sex, me and you, tonight, no strings attached. Like…"

"Like our first time was supposed to be," she finished for him quietly.

"Yes, like that." He nodded, and his gaze glittered with the rage that drove him.

He was painfully serious.

"I'm drunk," she said finally.

"I can see that," he muttered.

"Derek," she breathed softly, tossing the half empty bottle aside. It landed on the asphalt with a painful crash that made her wince. He barely noticed. "Go away."

"I'm trying," he snapped.

His clenched jaw was a telltale of hot anger, and it made her head hurt to ponder it. She glared at him through a haze of vodka and tequila. "I'm pathetically drunk and depressed, and if you wanted to you could take advantage of me. The funny part is that I'd be willing, but I'll give you hell tomorrow if I remember any of it. So just," she trailed off when he grabbed her hand and gently squeezed her thin fingers. The gesture was innocent, but she snatched her hand as though she'd been burned. "Go away," she repeated, hating that her voice wobbled.

"But I want to take advantage," he said hoarsely.

"No, you don't. You're…"

"Doctor Shephard!" Miranda Bailey's voice killed the brewing fight.

Meredith dropped her head back against the damp wood of the bench and shut her eyes, convinced that if she wanted to she could isolate herself.

"Doctor Grey," Bailey continued, a note of dismay creeping into the greeting, but it wasn't with Meredith, at least _that_ she knew. "I thought you weren't supposed to come." She was talking to Derek accusingly, but he seemed too weary to acknowledge that.

"Where to?" he sighed.

Bailey glared at him. "To the party, Doctor."

Lifting her head cautiously, she opened her eyes to watch the taut smile that curved his lips, and through her drunken musings wondered what was wrong with him. He wasn't his usual charming, light-hearted self. He was angry and brooding.

"I didn't come to the party. I came here to this wonderful bench to watch mediocre cars pass by and listen to the hideous music coming from that house." He thrust his rigid jaw in the direction of her duplex.

Not intimidated by the sour display of a raging temper, Bailey scowled and folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Well, I just left the hospital, and your wife's looking all over for you. Might want to turn on that cell phone of yours," she suggested sarcastically.

"I forgot it in my locker." And he didn't look sorry.

Meredith laughed quietly, drawing their eyes to her scantly dressed form. The cruel January wind sheathed her with an icy blanket that even the alcohol failed to dissolve. "You're acting very un-Derek-like," she commented and locked eyes with Bailey who shook her head in disapproval. "He wants to have sex with me," she mocked a whisper and giggled childishly.

The short stocky woman turned towards him, and her dark eyes searched for his guilt. Clucking her tongue absently, she wrapped her long coat tighter around her shoulders. "Take her somewhere warm. She'll catch pneumonia without even realizing it." That said, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the dancing crowd.

"I probably shouldn't have said that," she mumbled sheepishly.

"Probably," he agreed, sliding towards her. His arm was warm and heavy as it went around her shoulders, pulling her strongly against the solid warmth of his chest. When she instinctively leaned her head against his shoulder, he pressed his stubbly cheek to the soft disheveled hair at her temple, making her want to forget all about the ugliness.

He was silent for a long time, his breath lightly ruffling her hair, his sound heartbeat singing methodically against her cheek. She tried not to sigh as she brought her hand to his chest, tucking it beside her cheek. The muscle beneath her palm jerked in response.

He sucked in a sharp breath that startled her. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"Too loud," she protested weakly.

Stroking fingers strummed her shoulder through her lightweight black sweater. "I'd take you to my trailer, but I don't think you're in for a fight with Addison."

"There's a door at the back," she supplied.

His laughter was genuine, and it rumbled in his chest. "It's often referred to as the backdoor."

"I'm drunk."

"Very drunk," he corrected and set her away from him as he lifted himself off the bench and towered above her. Cradling her elbows, he helped her to her feet. "And your hands are freezing."

"What?" she asked in disdain. "I've only been out here a minute."

"More like an hour." He rubbed her hands between his larger warmer ones and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You're feverish."

"Stop touching me," she said angrily, recoiling from his advancing arms.

"Why not? I'm just trying to help."

Her voice dropped a notch. "Because, it's turning me on."

Derek's dark eyebrows shot upwards, but he didn't smile because she wasn't joking. "No sex tonight," he announced in a tone that rivaled disappointment.

She ignored it. "Not for me. But you can still get some from Addison. I'm sure you guys do the husbandey-husbandly-wifey-wifely thing to do or whatever." Her palm hovered in front of his face, and she shook her head. "I really don't want to know. Not that you offered to tell me, but just in case you thought it would make for good conversation… not just now, I mean ever, don't tell me."

"Meredith, just let me take you home. You're sick and drunk, and you're going to wake up with one hell of a hangover." Gently, he caught her wandering hands and pulled her towards him. Her struggle lasted for all of thirty seconds before she collapsed against his chest. He rubbed her back for several minutes when she sobered enough to feel the tears clinging to her eyelashes. "I'm going to carry you. Is that alright?" he murmured against her hair.

She nodded and held her breath as he hooked an arm behind her knees and kept the other wrapped around her back. He hoisted her against him as if she weighed no more than a purring cat.

"You're going to have to tell me where to go."

"Where no one will see you," she replied with false cheer. His pointed look made her head drop. "Just go around the trees, and you'll get to the door."

She didn't remember much of the trip, only that he kept whispering to her that she would be alright. When they reached her bedroom, he pulled back the covers and laid her against the pale bed-dress.

The back of his hand felt cold against her forehead. "You want to change your clothes?"

She opened her eyes to gaze at his looming face. "You want to undress me?"

"You're impossible," he sighed with frustration and pulled a hand through the tangle of dark curls on his head.

"No, I'm fine."

"You have a fever, and your clothes are damp for some reason. You have to change them."

"Some reason is that some guy I have never seen before decided to pour a bottle of water down my back… as a joke of course."

"I'm changing your clothes," he asserted firmly, much as one would address a disobedient child.

"Derek, no," she pleaded. "Don't take care of me. I can't… just don't." She let her eyelids drop and tried to clear her mind of the immense fog. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Because you're sick." Nimble fingertips brushed against the naked flesh beneath her v-necked cotton sweater. The material felt flimsy against his hands as he started to lift it.

"Derek, please," she whispered brokenly, but his eyes carefully avoided her tear-streaked face.

He placed a gentle thumb against her parted lips and spoke to her quietly. "Shh, relax. I'll get you some dry clothes and find something for the fever." His lulling voice and mellow eyes disappeared when she shut her eyes and fell into a fitful slumber.

There was a hammering sound in the distance. It rushed towards her frighteningly until the incessant pounding seemed to be aimed right at her head, forcing an unbearable ache to spread there. She groggily reached for an object to hurl against the source but her hands returned empty.

Another impatient bang. The door, she realized numbly, grasping a nearby pillow.

The knock was joined by a loud, "Meredith!" and the knob was turned several times before a moment of peace elapsed.

She tried to focus on the thoughts swirling in her mind in an attempt to gather the events that led to the very unfortunate circumstance she was suffering.

At the door, the murmurs seemed to belong to several voices.

She tried to open her eyes against the chaos but found the light too blinding.

"That must hurt."

His voice was unmistakable, scratchy from sleep or sleeplessness. His hovering form blocked the streaming sunlight.

"Derek?"

She felt his fingers against her lips, pressing a small pill between them. "Aspirin, for the hangover," he explained as he lifted her slightly and tipped the glass of tepid water against her lips.

Meredith swallowed obligingly.

Another loud knock echoed, and she winced.

"I'd tell them to stop, but I wasn't sure you wanted everyone to know I was here…"

"Derek?" she asked again, the wonder in her voice making her want to curse herself. Her eyes opened a sliver, just enough to make out his softened features.

He smiled then, a small curve of the lips that did something funny to his tired eyes. "You don't remember much, do you?"

"It's coming in bits and pieces." She cringed at Cristina's screeching voice.

Three hands knocked simultaneously on the wooden door, and she almost wished it wasn't locked.

"Make them stop," she cried.

His chuckle was indulgent as he brushed stray honey-colored strands of hair away from her face.

She pushed her hand against his, smiling faintly into his eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be out really soon.

Feedback is cherished :).


	2. Chapter Two: Whole Again

Disclaimer: I still don't own Grey's Anatomy (working on it).

Author's Note: I would like to start with a big thanks to everyone who took the time to review. Thank you so much! I really enjoyed reading all of your wonderful responses. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Feedback of any sort is well loved and extremely encouraging!

The story falls in the timeframe of episode 2X21 (Superstition), where Meredith has already slept with George and told Derek about it. It's a spin-off from that point on. Everything that doesn't make sense in the context of the show will be explained eventually.

**Where The Heart Is**

**Chapter Two:** _Whole Again  
_"If you see me with another man,  
Laughing and joking  
Doing what I can.  
I won't put you down  
Cause I want you around.  
You can make me whole again."  
Whole Again – Atomic Kitten

* * *

"I thought you said you weren't feeling well." 

She shrugged the slim row of her shoulders as she edged past an attending en route to their table. The hospital's cafeteria was crowded in a way that made her feel claustrophobic. "I'm not."

Izzie raised her shapely eyebrows questioningly. "And you're here because…"

"It's unbelievable! There's absolutely nothing for me to do," Meredith complained, a huff slipping through her lips. There was a wad of clean tissue papers crumpled in her pocket. She creased them further before extracting one and blowing her nose into it.

George relinquished his seat as soon as they approached the table.

"George!" She stared after his scurrying form for a long moment. "I'm just starting to get sick of him," she said angrily.

Izzie's frown was critical, but whatever she wanted to say went down with the first bite of her club sandwich. She sipped at some coffee before nudging half of her meal at Meredith. "He was there today, you know, when you wouldn't get up. He made me promise not to tell," she confessed guiltlessly, picking with trimmed fingernails at the nylon-wrapper of her vanilla flavored muffin.

So, his was the third hand. She reached for the offered sandwich and cautiously nibbled at its edge. Her appetite was absent. "Remind me not to entrust you with anything big."

"Shut up," she mumbled over a mouthful of fried eggs and cheese. "Who were you with anyway?"

Her heart thumped loudly against her ribcage. She bit into the soft bread and pretended to chew for several seconds after which she conjured a confused expression. "What?"

"Last night and this morning, who was with you?"

"Nobody, I was alone," she replied casually. If she were a better liar, things would have been much easier.

Cristina's tray fell beside hers.

"Really? Alone? It didn't look like it," she intervened, pulling out a chair. She plopped into it with little grace.

Izzie nodded her agreement and tore into the pastry.

"Yeah, it was just me," she emphasized the last two words and broke into a broad smile that she hoped looked more jovial than she was feeling.

Cristina surveyed her suspiciously. "You wouldn't even let us in," she muttered incredulously.

"I had the worst hangover in the history of hangovers."

They weren't convinced, and she was grateful they didn't push it any further.

"It was a good party," Izzie remarked wistfully. Her fingers collected the soft yellow crumbs and brought them to her lips. "Didn't exactly serve its purpose, but it was still good."

"Are you kidding? George refused to go. He threw a fit when Burke tried talking him into it." Cristina shook her dark head with force.

Meredith sighed impatiently and returned the uneaten sandwich to Izzie's tray. "It was a stupid idea anyway."

"I just wanted him to stop being mad at you," Izzie reasoned.

Meredith shook her head. "A party of randomness wasn't going to accomplish that."

Her pager went off.

"That's me," she announced, trying not to look relieved.

Heaving a giant breath, she hurried through the hospital.

----

Bailey acknowledged her with a flick of the eyes before resuming her perusal of the chart in her hands.

"Grey, what are you doing here? I thought you called in sick this morning." Her appraisal of Meredith's washed hair and red nose drew an unbecoming frown across her features.

"I… I _was_ sick. Now, I'm perfectly fine," she said in a tone that inspired confidence. Her voice voted against her.

"You sound like a cricket."

Meredith offered a wan smile in response. Her memories of the night before weren't vivid, but she imagined Bailey was in one of them. She blew her nose quietly and cleared her throat loudly. "About last night, I was…"

The other woman's lips quirked at one corner, but that was the only hint at her amusement. "You don't have to explain, Grey. Glad to see you remember," she observed flippantly, starting along the hallway.

Meredith followed at an easy pace. "What I said…" Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the memory to surface. It didn't. They stopped before the elevator, and she sighed in resignation. "What did I say?" she asked in a small voice. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought Bailey was laughing at her. Her shoulders quaked faintly under the white overcoat.

The doors to the elevator moved apart, spilling a rush of busy nurses and doctors. He seemed to belong where he stood in the corner, his hands tucked into the shallow pockets of his white jacket. His dark hair fell uncared for. Their gazes locked for a boundless breathless moment.

"Ask him what you said." Bailey's statement was accompanied by a gesture that told her to take the elevator ride. "Report to room E19." She divided a departing look between the two of them.

The metallic doors met with a polite thump. She suppressed a groan as she met his smiling eyes. "What did I say to Bailey?"

His hands moved to the crooks of his elbows, effectively leaving his arms crossed against his chest. "It was something to the effect of me wanting to…" His voice dropped to a whisper, and his lips drifted to her ear. "Have sex with you."

She resisted the drugging sensation that made her skin tingle where his breath wafted. Her jaw slacked in disbelief. "I didn't!"

He smiled thinly. "I'm afraid you did."

Meredith pushed the heel of her hand against her forehead. "Oh, my God!"

The luminous numbers glowed swiftly, racing through the floors. She was almost there when he touched her elbow with an illicitness that made her feel weak. They were stealing time.

"Meredith, last night…" There was an earnest look in his eyes.

Her breath deserted her as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to erase the lines of anxiety from his face and whisper of broken promises. "Yeah, don't worry, secret's safe," she said softly and even managed a tiny smile that wavered before she turned her back to him. Her heart protested with a dull ache that made her feel hollow. The soothing gaze on her back propelled her through the parting doors.

Scalding tears burned her eyes, but she kept them at bay, hoping that anyone who paid close enough attention to notice them would attribute the wetness to her illness. She scolded herself for reacting like a heartbroken adolescent and dabbed at the salty droplets with an urgency that must have seemed suspicious. Before stepping into room E19, she blew her nose again.

Professionalism, Meredith. Professionalism.

She was still humming the word in her mind when she encountered the solemn green eyes of the man in room E19. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, and she would have imagined he was exuberant if it weren't for the glare imprinted on his brow. His chocolate brown hair was short and boyishly rumpled. He greeted her with a curt nod.

"Good morning, I'm Doctor Grey." She reached for the chart at the foot of the bed and lifted it, shifting her gaze between the folder and his scowling face. "So you're…"

"Fine," he said with a tight smile.

"Zachary Preston." She studied him for a lengthy moment, trying to place the familiar face.

The ominous expression on his face dissolved into a slow chuckle that defined the vertical cleft in his chin. "You don't recognize me." Strangely, he was pleased and much more charming with the revelation.

"I'm sorry but no." She reread the chart, knowing that it wouldn't provide any answers. For a moment longer, she examined his clean-cut aristocratic features. His nose was well-shaped, his cheekbones arrogantly high, his wide shoulders barely contained beneath the insubstantial hospital gown. The grin on his mouth was winsome. He looked like an unconventional movie star. Clearing her throat loudly, she riveted her gaze to his chart. "So you've had severe headaches, occasional dizziness, and blackouts." She read the facts quickly. "You've been having these symptoms for how long?"

The sparkle of amusement that entered his gaze told her that her careful inspection of his physique hadn't gone unnoticed. "Roughly three to four months," he replied vaguely.

She feigned normalcy. "Anything in particular that triggered them?"

His brow furrowed in concentration before he deliberately shook his head. "No, not that I can think of."

She nodded and penciled an unnecessary note on his chart to avoid the piercing jade eyes. "Alright, Mister Preston, I think…"

The unabashed grin was still adorning his face. "You can call me Zack."

In spite of herself, Meredith smiled lightly. "Okay then, Zack, we'll run you a blood test and take it from there." She secured the binder and returned it to its appointed place. "I'll be right back with someone to draw the blood," she explained as she moved towards the door.

His next question stilled her.

"Excuse me, Doctor Grey. Does a Derek Shephard work in this hospital?"

The freshness of their encounter sliced through her like a sharpened blade. She knew that every emotion that was flung from her heart at the sound of his name was painted across her features, and she was grateful that Zachary Preston could only see her back. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she actually uttered the faint words. "Yes, he does."

He didn't seem to notice her hesitation. "Will you tell him to drop by?"

Her cough only delayed the expected response. "Of course, I'll tell him as soon as I see him." She shut the door on her way out and heaved a shaky breath.

That man was her shadow. Had he been anyone else's friend, she wouldn't have thought much of it. But Derek. Derek whose dimpled smile made her soul sing.

She blew her nose with force, venting her frustration on the crumpled mundane piece of white tissue.

"Damn him," she mumbled, attracting the wide eyes of a random passerby. She plastered a smile on her face to appease the offended older woman and swept past the occupied rooms.

----

Cristina was darting across the hallway when she caught her arm.

She was met with impatient eyes and raised eyebrows. "Hey, Meredith, I have to run," she explained quickly, pointing in the direction she was taking.

The grip she had on her friend's arm was pressing. "Who on earth is Zachary Preston?" she asked on one breath, irritation beaming in her eyes.

Derek's smile was brilliant as he appeared at her side, minus the white coat. "Congressman Preston!" he exclaimed while tucking a pen in his breast pocket.

"There." Cristina smiled briefly and brushed past him in a frenzy.

She half-turned towards him, lifting her chin slightly in realization. "A congressman! I knew I'd seen that face somewhere," she said more to herself than him. Congressman Zachary Preston. She'd seen him a couple of times in the news, once towards the end of the newspaper. He was one of the younger members of the congress, quite opinionated and quite the bachelor.

"Zack's here?" There was a mixture of surprise and delight on his face.

She nodded distractedly, recalling the forest green eyes that sparkled with laughter. "Yes, he asked to see you. Room E19." When she finally lifted her eyes to his, he was studying her with scrutiny. If the hard look in his eyes told her anything, it was that something had bothered him.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked briskly.

Tucking her disheveled hair behind her ear, she moistened her dry lips. "We don't know yet. He has some common symptoms," she said briefly.

His pager announced something that brought a frown to his brow. "I'll drop by later," he said hurriedly and took off in a direction opposite to the one Cristina had taken.

Meredith sighed.

----

It boiled down to one thing. Every warm caress her memory salvaged, every stray kiss her skin whispered of… all of it meant nothing.

Last night with Derek hadn't meant a thing. Nothing. She didn't know why it still pained her so much, or why the hurt in her heart was so sharp. He was Derek, and he was married. He had no right to treat her like they were caught up in the illusion of sleepless nights and stolen kisses. He had no right to take care of her and ask her to be quiet about it when all she wanted to do was scream it at the top of her lungs. He had no right to be tender with her or look at her with eyes that melted her resolve.

It made her feel even more hostile that she understood.

He knew they couldn't be together but indulged in harmless moments, as if they could exist on borrowed time. She knew why. It mellowed her heart and softened her disposition, but she was determined to put that part of her life behind her. She was determined to forget the feel of his fingers as he'd softly stroked her cheek, determined to forget the swell that rose in her chest when he had feathered his lips against her warm temple.

When she reached Zachary Preston's room much later with the results of his blood test in tow, Derek was there. The scene arrested her at the door. She watched them, mesmerized by the light-heartedness that emanated from the warm picture. They were laughing like old friends would at a fond memory, and they were both striking.

Meredith cleared her throat a moment before his green eyes landed on her. His laughter faded into a well-meaning smirk.

"Hello, Doctor Grey," he addressed her in a deep tone with the flush of mirth still painting his cheeks.

Derek looked at her and nodded politely.

"Congressman Preston, Doctor Shephard." Smiling uneasily, she consulted the results for the thirtieth time since she'd received them.

"I see you've uncovered the mystery," Zack teased with a smile.

She returned it mildly, painfully aware of Derek's gaze burning through her. "Doctor Shephard jogged my memory."

The wounded look he feigned made her laugh. Well-groomed fingers raked his clean hair. "You can still call me Zack," he conceded with finality.

"Doctor Grey, the results," Derek interrupted, his tone surprisingly snide. Zack's eyes widened in surprise.

Meredith only allowed herself a fleeting glance in his direction. He was still standing with his arms crossed and an important-looking document dangling from his left hand. The easy laughter she had witnessed before entering had given room to a dark threatening glare.

She didn't give any sign that acknowledged his annoyance. "Your tests were normal, except for one thing. Have you eaten this morning?"

His palms pushed into the mattress, lifting him so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard. "Yes, I had a bagel and some fruit."

"Does it show a high sugar level?" Derek asked.

She shook her head. "Actually, it shows a low sugar level. Hypoglycemia?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "That's extremely rare if the patient isn't diabetic."

"But possible. It can't be organic, or they would've caught on it earlier on. Functional?" She was jotting things down frantically. Her troubles were momentarily shelved.

Derek nodded slowly. "Most likely," he agreed.

"Could be a tumor," she suggested.

"Whoa, hold on a minute. What's going on?" His green gaze shifted between them at an anxious rate. "Tumor as in cancer?"

"We don't know that yet. It's just one prognosis. We'll need some more tests to make sure," she spoke slowly to assert that he followed.

"Tumors can be benign," Derek added with a reassuring smile.

He scowled at them. "I'd rather you talk to me like I'm older than ten."

A smile once again claimed her lips as she held the result papers against her chest. "Your blood sugar level is lower than normal, especially knowing that you've had a meal in the past few hours. This condition is known as hypoglycemia, which is technically the opposite of diabetes. It's most common in diabetic patients, resulting from an adjustment in their medication. Now, in your case, hypoglycemia can either mean that you have organ dysfunction in your liver, or it could be a tumor pressing on your pancreas. If there is a tumor, then it's probably causing the surge of insulin into your blood, thus the low sugar level."

He listened attentively but didn't seem especially ruffled by the news. His head bobbed in understanding. "Thank you, Doctor Grey. That was very informative. What happens if there's a tumor?" His clipped tone was clinical.

"There will be a surgery to remove it."

"Alright then, when do I get out of here?" He glanced through the impersonal room with impatient distaste.

"We'll start with the tests tonight, if possible. After that, it depends on what we find," she said apologetically. She imagined he was a hearty, lively man who hardly lingered in one place for very long. "That's all for now." She started to back from the room.

A grin broke the grave mask he wore. "Will you come back?"

Her laughter left his question unanswered.

"Shameless." She heard Derek grumble as she left room E19 behind.

* * *

I don't usually write this fast, but I already had this chapter written before I posted the first one. I poured over it all day (again) until it felt satisfactory enough to be posted. 

Your reviews are cherished and might well motivate me to write _this_ fast:-D

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter Three: Beautiful Disaster

Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy.

Author's Note: I'm so extremely sorry about the delay in this chapter. I just kept tweaking it until it felt right. Not that it feels absolutely right, but I'm fairly okay enough with it to post it. And now I'd like to thank you all SO SO SO much for your wonderful reviews. And they _are_ wonderful, really. So thanks again! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Feedback of any sort is much-loved and appreciated.

**Chapter Three: **_Beautiful Disaster  
_"He drowns in his dreams,  
An exquisite extreme, I know.  
He's as damned as he seems,  
And more heaven than a heart could hold.  
And if I try to save him,  
My whole world could cave in."  
Beautiful Disaster – Kelly Clarkson

* * *

She saw him the moment she tiredly pushed her way into Joe's Bar, the tinkling bells merrily announcing her arrival. Her blue-gray eyes fell on him, stilled for a moment longer than courtesy allowed, and then slid to meet Joe's welcoming gaze.

Derek stared back, unsure of what he was groping for but certain that by some tacit agreement they weren't talking.

He was the sole occupant of the round table where a waitress had discarded a small bowl of salty nuts and a plate of pretzels. The cherished solitude left him at the liberty of watching her, so he did quietly as she carried on an animated conversation with a delighted old man, who had chosen _her_ seat to have a long-neck. She didn't seem particularly injured by the violation of what she considered to be her property but rather amused by it. The gray-haired, jolly man was enchanted. Joe was laughing.

Derek fought a bitter smile.

The dim lights made her look different, softer. Wavy blond tresses fell free and careless around her face, caressing the underside of her jaw. Her profile was silhouetted against blurry, colorful randomness, and she was beautiful. Her eyes weren't as tired, and a rare smile played on the corners of her full lips.

"_Shameless," he grumbled flippantly. _

_Zack laughed and stared at the door for long after she'd left through it, as if wishing she would reappear. "What's going on with you two?" he asked suddenly, lifting his eyes to probe his lifelong friend. _

_Derek's laughter was tense, and he looked away, avoiding the betrayal of eye contact. "Nothing," he lied. "Why do you ask?"_

"_The way you looked at her. The way she looked at you. The way you bit her head off for flirting with me." He ticked the list off on three fingers before dropping his hand to his side. _

_He scoffed, folded the paper in his hand three times and shoved the distorted rectangle into his pocket. "What are you talking about? She wasn't flirting with you." _

_Zack raised his brown eyebrows disbelievingly. "Really, Derek." _

_The suffocating feeling that grew in his chest made him want to shout obscenities. He stumped it with a willpower that wasn't his own and forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. "If you like her, ask her out," he suggested quickly. _

"_I plan to, as soon as I'm out of this place," Zack retorted with confidence. "You and Addison still married?" _

_He swallowed tightly and coerced his lips into a small smile. "Still," he confirmed. "Listen, I need to check on my patients. It was great seeing you. I'll drop by again later," he promised. _

"_Alright, buddy, I'll see you." _

He twirled the glass in his hand, mindless of the amber liquid sloshing against the sides.

With melancholic beauty, she nursed a shot of tequila, apparently not willing to gulp the drink in one painful swallow. He followed the small cup with his eyes as her slim fingers clasped it, lifting it to her lips. Her mouth sipped it, and the glass was tilted.

"Take a picture, Derek. It'll last longer." Bailey's snide remark was softened by the understanding in her voice. She slid into the chair opposite his and reached across the table to kindly pat his hand, as if offering condolences for the death of a well-loved pet.

He chuckled derisively and downed a long sip of the bitter gist. "My friend likes her," he said quietly, testing his voice on the words. "My _friend_ likes her," he repeated, and it did explain everything to her.

Her eyebrows rose and fell quickly, a cautioning gesture that didn't escape his attention. "Zachary Preston is a handsome man," she replied finally.

The corner of his lip curled slightly in a humorless smirk, and he pinned her with a daring look. "There are rules about patients and doctors. We don't bend the rules."

"He's not going to be her patient forever." Bailey shook her head at him and patted his hand again, making him feel like a man diagnosed with a deadly disease. "Jealousy is a destructive emotion," she said softly.

Clearing his throat, he ran a quick hand through his hair. "I should just encourage him, because he's great and well she's great, but I…" he heaved a long-suffering sigh, and pushed his thumb into his temple. "I can't," he confessed. "I just can't."

Her dark eyes brimmed with sympathy. "Let her be, Derek."

"I'm trying," he heard himself mutter when Meredith caught him gazing at her. She indulged in him for a brief moment before she lowered her eyelids and gave him her back.

"Hey, Derek, Miranda." Addison dropped a fleeting kiss on his cheek before slipping into the seat next to his.

Bailey smiled pleasantly. "Addison."

"Hey," Derek greeted her.

Bailey began to shuffle out of her seat. "If you'll excuse me," she said politely.

Addison's hand shot out and landed on the other woman's arm. "Nonsense, Miranda, stay! I'm leaving. I just dropped by to see my husband, but I have surgery scheduled in an hour."

She lingered for a couple of minutes, sipped his drink and cast a surreptitious glance at Meredith. Derek noticed the displeased frown that wrinkled her forehead, and he knew that she knew. The circle threatened to choke him.

"You are in way over your head, Shephard," Bailey told him as they watched Addison scurry across the street through the glass doors.

"That's not true," he protested lamely. "I'm a brilliant brain surgeon, and I'm married to another brilliant surgeon."

"And you're in love with an intern," she added slowly.

"You really do hate me," he grumbled in dismay and brought his drink to his lips. He frowned at the dry cup. "You want a drink?" he offered.

"Lemon vodka on the rocks," she responded.

He crossed the distance to the bar in four long strides, deliberately coming up beside her. "Hey, Joe, give me another double scotch, single malt, and one lemon vodka on the rocks." His arm brushed against her back, and he felt her tense before she swiveled to face him with a hint of anger in her eyes.

The bartender smiled. "Give me a minute, Doctor Shephard."

Derek nodded and unhurriedly turned towards her. "You're not talking to me," he said conversationally.

Even though she was incensed, she hesitated before meeting his eyes with hers. "You're right. I'm not talking to you." Her tone matched his in lightness.

He crossed his arms against his chest and lifted his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Your behavior in front of my patient was uncalled for."

Derek scowled darkly but had a change of heart at the expectant defensiveness to her posture. He eased the expression off his face. "You're right, Meredith. I'm sorry." The apology was insincere at best. Her banter with Zachary Preston put him on edge.

She regarded him skeptically. "Really?"

His nod was somber.

The light caught her eyes when she tilted her head to the side in thoughtful contemplation. Specks of gold flickered in the smoky blue irises and glittered off her loose hair. His fingers itched to sink into the fragrant golden mass. "Thank you, Derek. That's very big of you."

He swallowed hard. "Are you going to put a star on my cheek?" he asked dryly.

"Wouldn't you rather she put a kiss?" Joe winked as he pushed the prepared drinks across the bar.

Derek grinned suggestively. "Where?"

The large man chuckled with gusto, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Will you walk Doc with me tomorrow?" he requested hopefully.

She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and held it there for an endless moment. "I-I can't," she answered regretfully.

He looked at a clean spot on the dark bar, cleared his throat and closed both hands around their drinks. "Why not?" he asked tightly.

"Because," she stammered. "I have to… be somewhere."

She was lying, but he shrugged anyway. "Alright then, have a nice night, Meredith."

"You're shameless," Bailey scolded him as he placed her drink on the table before her. She had ravaged his pretzels.

He hung his head like a reprimanded child and dropped onto his chair listlessly. "I know."

----

That morning, she'd woken up well before her shift at the hospital started. The red digital numbers belonging to the clock on her nightstand boasted the time with periodic blinks, **4:07 A.M**. Unable to go back to sleep, she had wandered through the house, thinking of Derek walking Doc and wondering if she should just surprise him. An outrageous number of scenarios, some hideous, others dreamy, materialized in her mind. The thought had been dismissed two mugs of coffee and one disaster of a pancake later.

Her musings had gravitated to Zachary Preston, mentally chalking up his handsome face alight with amusement, and she'd speculated about his illness.

Now, Meredith studied the scans of his abdomen closely, frowning at the odd body driving into the pancreas. With the butt of her pen, she tapped it lightly before turning to consult Bailey.

"It's a small tumor," Bailey said. "Barely noticeable but damaging."

"It'll be easy to remove," Meredith added quickly.

Bailey nodded and regarded her with suspicion. "He'll be fine. Good work, Grey. You'll scrub in for the surgery."

"Thank you, Doctor Bailey."

"Start prepping the patient for surgery. I'll schedule it."

He looked pale when she walked into his room, but he greeted her with a bright smile that reached the corners of his sleep-deprived eyes. A cloud of downy white pillows scattered around his large frame made him look a little less intense than the weighty man she had met the day before. His short hair was fairer and thicker than she remembered.

The sound of his voice interrupted her detailed speculation.

"Hi, Meredith."

Her name sounded strange on his lips, like a foreign language or a prayer. Stepping beside his bed, she smiled at him and tugged at one of the pillows curiously. "Hi, how are you feeling?"

He stared at her hand before raising smiling eyes to her face. "You want the truth?"

"Always," she replied without demur.

He searched her eyes probingly for a heart-stopping moment. "I feel like hell," he admitted gruffly.

Laughing softly, she resisted the impulse to touch his hair. "I'm sorry," she murmured honestly. "I'm going to start preparing you for surgery."

"How long will it take?"

Meredith took his chart and opened it. "How long will what take?" she asked as she quickly reviewed the test results.

"The whole thing, with recovery and everything," he said.

Her shoulders rose and fell under the white lab coat. "A week, maybe," she told him, somehow knowing that the ambiguous answer would bother him.

He cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry. I just hate being stuck here. I have places to go, people to see," Zack rambled. "I like pillows," he said suddenly as if to explain why she had to work around so many.

"You do like pillows," she smiled, plucking one from the ground. "It'll be over sooner than you think," she said reassuringly.

His eyes brightened eagerly. "Really? How do you know that?"

She shrugged. "That's what they all say."

His low chuckle was surprising as he caught her hand and pressed her fingers with a hand that promised strength, belying the fragility of his posture. "Hypothetically," he began, capturing her eyes with the richness of his. "Would you go out with me?"

She eased her hand out of his yielding grasp. "Hypothetically, I don't think so."

He didn't seem to believe her. "Really?" he drawled challengingly.

"Really," she confirmed, tossing her hair over her shoulder in an effort to compete with his confidence.

The forced haughty act drew an amused grin on his face. "Why? Do you find me repulsive?"

Meredith felt her eyes widen. "R-repulsive?"

"Physically, I mean, or my personality, do you find any of it repulsive?" Evidently, the thought amused him.

"No!" she said it in a rushed breathless voice that made her feel like a ditzy blond the moment the sound of her voice echoed in the small room. Drawing in a deep heartening breath, she diverted his gaze. "No," she repeated more calmly.

"Is it that I'm a congressman?"

"You _are_ a congressman," she muttered thoughtfully, as if the fact had escaped her. The truth was she was seeking to stall him.

His green eyes were twinkling at her. "Are you impressed?"

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Meredith stood erect at the familiar sound, trying not to appear as flustered as she felt. Judging by the color in his cheeks and the livid look in his eyes, Derek had been standing at the door for longer than it seemed. His stare was scorching, and she resisted the ridiculous urge to wince or shy away.

Zack recovered before her. "Hey, Derek," he said amiably.

Derek took purposeful brief steps into the room and tore his gaze away from her crossly. "How're you feeling today?"

"Not too bad."

Nodding slightly, he tucked the chart in his hands under his arm. "Ready for the surgery?"

"As I'll ever be," he replied with an encouraged smile.

"Good," Derek said awkwardly. "Yeah, that's good. I'll check on you when it's over. Best of luck, buddy."

He didn't look at her as he quickly fled the room.

Zack looked like he was about to say something when she interrupted him. "I'm taking you down to the OR, now. You didn't call anyone," she realized.

His face turned cold and emotionless, starkly contradicting the warm smile that fell from his lips. "No, I didn't," he said in a tone that killed any inclination she had to further probe the issue.

----

The surgery had gone off with no complications and was deemed a major success. Meredith sighed her relief as she trudged across the empty hallway, rolling her neck to release the knots of tension building there. He was going to be fine. Her wrist was caught from behind, and she jerked around to confront the assaulter, only to bump into Derek's heaving chest. His angry eyes were a stormy blue that glittered like the ocean on a ruthless December eve. His jaw was set with fury.

The sound of approaching voices prompted him to push the door to the supply closet and step into it, dragging her with him.

"Derek!" she exclaimed, rubbing the tender skin his fingers had bitten into. "What's gotten into you?" she snapped in annoyance.

He paced the small cramped space twice and stopped right in front of her, standing too close for comfort. "Do you like him?" he asked seriously.

She stared at him incredulously. "Who?"

"Zack," he said impatiently, his eyes raking her face.

"It's none of your business. Now, I'm going," she said with false calm and reached for the door, but he was quicker.

He pushed his back against it, standing in front of her and prying her hand from the handle. "Answer me, damn it."

"You have no right to do this," she spoke softly, wresting her hand away from his as she glared evenly into those outraged indigo irises.

He nodded and took a step towards her, closing the small distance that stood between them. His hands curved gently this time around her wrists pulling her against him. She gasped when their bodies collided, her breasts pressing into his chest, his thighs grazing hers. Breathing slowly, she tilted her head up to look at his face. "I lost that right," he whispered before lowering his head and capturing her lips with his. He kissed her. He simply put his mouth on hers and kissed her. When he pulled away roughly, his nose nuzzled hers, and his eyes were ablaze with passion. "Tell me this is wrong," he implored her huskily, pressing his lips to her cheek. "Tell me to stop."

She moaned his name and clutched him with a desperation that frightened her. Her hands traveled from his chest to lock around his neck, tangling in the hair at his nape. She held his head closer to her face where his teeth were nipping at her earlobe, and she felt herself slacking against him. Groaning, he kissed her again. Harder, deeper. His tongue outlined her lips, compelling them to part under the arousing pressure. When they did, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, mating with hers in quick deft strokes that unleashed a sweet ache in her abdomen. The sensation brought memories slamming into her being, like a strange energy that was forgotten and reawakened.

The door was pushed open from the outside, spilling a shock of light. She heard it faintly, felt the brightness blur against her closed eyes, but the implication registered on her only after a startled gasp tore from the intruder's throat.

The surprised sound was like a roar that jolted their entwined forms.

Derek deserted her so swiftly it made her sway before she recovered her equilibrium. Bailey stared them down unflinchingly. He licked his swollen lips. She swallowed.

A minute of absolute stunned silence elapsed. Bailey shifted her stare between them like an angry mother, but there was no accusation in her eyes. "I did not see that," she said slowly, backing away until she escaped through the door.

Meredith held her breath as she stared at the vibrating door in bewilderment. His quiet laughter erupted abruptly, drawing her stare to his shaking form. The relieved hilarity in his eyes coaxed a smile from her lips.

Derek took her hand and brought it to his smiling face, laying her palm against the beloved stubble on his cheek. The dimple clung for a delightful moment while he rubbed his face against her palm in a gesture so endearing it took her breath away.

"Derek," she sighed softly, slipping her hand into his hair. He came to her with a fierceness that made his eyes glitter. "This is wrong," she murmured.

He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and leaned his forehead against hers, sharing her breath erratically. "I know," he cursed. "I'm sorry. I just can't be around you and not…" he expelled a large breath that tickled her nose. "Touch you," he whispered, stroking a hand up her side. He kissed the spot below her ear leisurely.

Her choppy breathing fell into his thick hair, and her eyes slammed shut at their own volition. "Oh, God. Derek, please," she begged. "Don't." _Don't stop._ She wanted to utter the plea, but something inside her screamed against it.

His arms dropped to his sides, and the loss made her heart ache. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide a shiver that teased her senses.

"Walk Doc with me tomorrow," he pleaded, brushing her tousled hair away from her face.

"I…"

His finger touched her lips to silence her. "Don't say no, just come."

She searched his eyes and felt her resolve crumble around her. "Okay," she conceded.

"Good." He smiled, and as if he couldn't resist the temptation, he leaned towards her and pressed a chaste, soft kiss to her puffy lips. She touched his cheek before he pulled the door open and slipped through it.

Dropping to the ground, she buried her face between her knees and breathed deeply.

"Oh, God, what am I doing? What am I doing?"

* * *

Again, I hope you enjoyed it. Your reviews are cherished and encouraging!

Thanks a ton for reading and for bearing with my muse!


	4. Chapter Four: Your Mistake

Disclaimer: I still don't own Grey's Anatomy.

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews. I loved reading each and every one of them and look forward to read more of your responses! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Feedback of any sort is much-loved and appreciated!

**Chapter Four: **_Your Mistake  
_"I must keep managing my madness over you.  
It's true, I'm blue.  
And without you I'm not right.  
I'm not fine.  
I wanna be rain that tastes like wine.  
I wanna be good. I wanna be great.  
I wanna be everything except for your mistake."  
Your Mistake – Sister Hazel

* * *

The fresh dawn was tinged with a deceptive hint of chilly air, a subtle souvenir of another rainy night in Seattle. Meredith didn't think she'd ever seen a sky so riotous with blue. The horizon choked on a string of infinite clouds where the rising sun did little to placate the chaotic awakening of Mother Nature.

Her feet fell methodically against the pressed ground, teasing the undergrowth as they bounced. A whipping breeze disheveled the high ponytail she had arranged earlier.

She felt small.

The foliage swallowed her in a way that made her feel insignificant, and she was early. Sleep had been a rare visitor the night before, barely whispering against her lashes before it gave to a flush of heat that left her restless. She had twisted and turned, wrenching the white linens in an effort to banish the vivid images of their encounter from her mind. It seemed the harder she tried to forget the taste of his mouth, the sharper it felt on her tongue, traces of black coffee and apple-flavored energy bars.

The memory of his relentless kisses had given her insomnia, and it felt pathetic.

She had been kissed before under more fitting circumstances and in methods that were meant to be erotic. She'd been kissed by Derek before, and it had never left her sleepless. It had never been as urgent as the firm hands that dug into the flesh at her hips, never as hungry as the lips that sealed hers for breathless moments, never as desperate as the whispers that stroked her skin. It had never made her feel needed. He had clung to her as if she were vital for his life, as if he would stop breathing without her kisses.

It was wrong. It was unutterably, horribly wrong.

All night, the untamed desire to kiss him again had chased her thoughts, painting obscene scenarios that involved her luring him out of his trailer and into the stretch of feral midnight land he called his own. With the break of dawn, she was lucid enough to promise herself that she wouldn't kiss him because no matter how utterly tempting it was to drown in every dormant sensation he awakened, Derek was not hers. He was married. Marriage was forever.

He would never be hers.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said from behind her, his voice intruding on her thoughts. His footsteps were indistinct.

She swiveled to face him as Doc nuzzled against her denim clad legs, panting for attention. "Didn't know you were into clichés," she teased, laughing when the dog licked her hand. Squatting down, she scratched the spots behind his ears and muttered ridiculous greetings that made his tail wag happily.

"What? Are you kidding? I love clichés." Derek grinned, taking a few steps towards her. His hands were crammed into the front pockets of his jeans, which were the same dark shade as hers. He looked casual with his windblown hair and black jacket. There was nothing threatening about the beguiling look in his eyes or the serene expression on his face.

Meredith knew better. Swallowing her misgivings, she came to her feet, finding that her full height faltered against his, and she was still forced to look up at him. She hadn't realized he was so close. Determined not to divulge her discomfort, she met his eyes before they dropped to her lips. He took particular interest in staring at her mouth, and it made her nervous. Unconsciously, her tongue ventured to moisten her lips. She regretted the action as soon as the dampness relieved the dryness wrought by the wind. A shadow passed across his gaze, darkening his blue eyes until it was hard to distinguish the irises from their pupils.

"You're standing too close," she blurted suddenly and winced inwardly.

He blinked and with obvious difficulty forced his gaze away from her mouth. Making no move to step backwards, he simply smiled into her eyes and shrugged. "I like standing too close." His hands fell lightly on her shoulders, gripping them comfortingly through her fitting, navy hooded sweater. "You're warm," he murmured his appreciation and touched her bare neck with fingertips as weightless as feathers.

She should've worn a turtleneck, she thought absently, holding her breath in anticipation. Her lips ached to be touched. His large hands were warm as they closed around her throat, his fingers linking at the base of her neck, thumbs tracing her jaw line delicately. She felt herself tremble, and he must have noticed because a deep groan resounded in his throat. Angling his head, he lowered his face to hers and brushed her lips ever so slightly with his. He didn't kiss her. When he raised his head, he gave her a reluctant smile that spoke of a wavering restraint.

Her voice was shaky when she finally spoke. "You shouldn't have done that."

He returned his hands to her shoulders where they applied a gentle, drugging pressure. "If I could help it, I wouldn't have done that," he answered honestly.

It made her want to slap him senseless. Instead, she shook him off and walked across the clearing. Bending at the waist, she picked up a withered damp stick that lay forlornly beside a towering oak tree. Doc bounced excitedly as she fiddled with it. With a deep breath, she flung it as far as she could and watched the dog trail it forcefully.

"You're not happy," Derek observed in a quiet voice that made her want to melt against him.

She looked straight into his eyes. "No, I'm not, but I'm not miserable, either. I'm fine. I would be a lot better if you would just leave me alone," she said steadily. The enormous trunk bit into her back, but she rested against it anyway. She was tired of fighting him, and she knew she had to.

His lips were held stiffly in a firm line as he followed her. The menacing way he hovered above her should have scared her, but it didn't. "If I could, I would," he bit out irritably, resting his hands against the tree on either side of her head.

Her palm flattened against his chest, pushing into his advancing form. She eyed him with disbelief. "Stop saying that! Stop making up excuses to justify the way you handle things. You can't have Addison and keep me on the side. That's just not going to happen, Derek. Not now, not ever. Don't even…"

He ended her angry tirade when he eased her palm from his chest and his mouth came down hard on hers. It stunned her into succumbing to the possessive assault. Within moments, she forgot everything but the strong body curving deliciously into hers and the masculine scent of his aftershave. Her irritation dissolved into his lips, and she clasped his cheeks as he deepened the kiss. Derek worked the hand at her waist under the layers of clothing until his palm was caressing her naked skin. He pulled away to catch his breath. "I can't get enough of you," he rasped as he breathed kisses across her cheeks. His thumb outlined her navel.

Doc barked, the stick falling from his jaws to the ground with a muffled thump.

It broke the heady spell. She caught his wandering hand, pulled it from under her sweater and disentangled herself from his arms. Slipping past him, she wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to eliminate the loneliness that seeped into her being.

"Are you leaving her?" she asked softly.

He was still leaning heavily against the tree, his back taut with tension before he turned around. His eyes were hooded with desire. "Meredith," he whispered. Her name meant a handful of things. It was an apology, a broken sigh, a prayer for forgiveness, an unrequited love, a painful longing.

She nodded mutely. "I thought so." Staring at him intently, she committed to heart the attractive lock of dark hair that dipped low over his forehead. "Goodbye, Derek."

She brushed past him and absently retraced the path she had trodden earlier. When he was well out of hearing distance, she sobbed.

----

She swung her legs back and forth, delighting in the rebound her tennis shoes made against the wall. The street was fairly bustling with the late afternoon traffic in the distance. She counted the red cars to avoid thinking about Derek. Humming the melody to a song she couldn't remember, she drummed her fingers against the wall.

Cristina skidded to a stop before she reached her, cocking her head to the side curiously. "What are you doing?"

Meredith laughed bitterly and pulled her legs up onto the ledge, crossing them in an Indian fashion. The shutters to the window behind her were clamped shut. "I'm breathing," she answered tonelessly.

Raising her dark eyebrows, Cristina lifted herself up the dirt-stained wall and sat beside her. "Tell me again why we're meeting outside the hospital."

"I don't want to see him."

"I see." Cristina picked on her fingernails. "Are you going to tell me what's going on between you and Shephard?"

"Nothing's going on," she lied.

"Meredith, I know you were crying this morning. So unless you had an emotional outburst, which I doubt very much by the way, then something definitely happened with Shephard."

"Nothing happened," she insisted.

Cristina frowned in dismay. "You are a very bad liar."

"I know."

"Then something did happen." The triumphant look in her eyes died when Meredith spoke.

"I'm soft." She resented herself for the self-pity in her voice.

"What? You're not soft! You're hardcore. You're a surgeon. You do what it takes," she said with force.

The unsettling realization almost made her collapse in tears. "He made me soft, Cristina. I was angry. For the longest time, I was just angry with everything and everyone. I was angry with the world. I'm not anymore. I'm not even angry with him. I just want him in a very, very desperate way. Is that bad?" She searched her dark eyes frantically.

Cristina patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Meredith, that's worse than bad."

She felt a tear slide down her cheek and wiped it away before it reached her lips. "I know it's bad. I don't know what to do," she whispered weakly.

"You could tell me what happened that messed you up like this," she suggested sympathetically.

"Nothing happened," she muttered. It was still their secret, and it filled her with the mushy secret feelings Izzie had ridiculed what seemed like decades ago.

"Do you wish you'd never met him?"

She shook her head. "I can't imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't."

Cristina snorted. "You're so soft, it's not even funny." She made a _tsking_ noise with her tongue that amused a smile out of Meredith. "Want to scrub in with Burke on an open-heart surgery?"

Laughing, Meredith pulled her hair away from her face. "Definitely."

----

"I heard the surgery was made for the books."

The unique sound of his voice startled her. "Hey, I thought you were sleeping," she said, setting his chart aside to approach the reclined bed.

He shrugged and gave her a small smile. "I was pretending to. They've been sending in this young nurse, red hair, keeps asking about the rumors in the tabloids and insists on finding me a suitable bride."

She laughed at that and self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you looking for a suitable bride?" she teased, lifting an eyebrow mockingly.

Zack chuckled. "I might be," he said, suggestively wiggling his brown eyebrows. "Are you offering?" he asked with a grin.

"To find you one?" she scoffed.

"Or to be one," he intimated wickedly. His eyes were twinkling merrily enough to tell he was joking.

The playfulness of their banter made her feel lighter. She was willing to embroil herself in the otherwise harmless game. "Oh, Mister Preston, I'd hardly call myself suitable."

"Really?" He propped himself up against the headboard and crossed his arms appraisingly. "I'd say you'd make for a very suitable bride. You're young, smart, pretty and sexy as hell," he finished in a conspiring whisper, his eyes traveling from her face down the length of her lab coat to her feet and up again.

She blushed under his bold assessment. "That is quite… quite inappropriate," Meredith said in a flustered tone.

The smile on his face reminded her of mischievous children. "Are you still hypothetically not going out with me?"

"You're a persistent man," she told him with a tinge of hesitant admiration, no longer pretending to check his vitals.

Zack was pleased with the description. "I'm not persistent. I'm a politician. We can talk. That's actually all we can do," he said reflectively. "Sometimes, we shout," he added. The ridiculous pillows were still flung all over the bed.

She smiled. "You're funny."

"And you don't laugh a lot."

"That's not true," she protested defensively.

"So now I'm a liar," he said accusingly.

"I didn't say that!"

"Go out with me," he beseeched her in a voice that combined pleading and imploring. The look in his eyes was hard to decipher as anything but compelling.

A polite knock sounded at the door, filling the void of her speechlessness. He didn't look away from her as he called out, "come in".

She turned to find Derek and Addison filing into the room; they stopped beside the door, standing side by side. It was the first time she'd seen him since that morning, and the sight of his expressionless face made her feel heavy with the memories. Addison was smiling in a way that had Meredith believing she had heard Zack begging her to go out with him.

"Hey, Derek, Addison," Zack smiled at them politely.

Derek grunted a greeting.

"We're glad you're alright, Zack," Addison told him warmly. She pressed her hand into Derek's limp fingers, trying to coax some life into them, but Meredith could tell he wasn't responding. He was still staring at her as though she had betrayed him. She felt like screaming at him for the guilt his stare induced.

"Thank you," she heard Zack say. She turned back to face him, and he studied her quizzically.

"Are you staying in Seattle?" Addison asked him.

His stare riveted to Meredith purposefully. "It depends," he said quietly.

"On what?" Derek's voice was unusually loud. Addison peered at him curiously.

Zack's gaze didn't waver. "On how persistent I am," he said.

Dropping her head uncomfortably, she shuffled her feet. "Excuse me," she muttered, starting for the door. Her shoulder brushed against Derek's, and she ignored the tingles she felt at the physical contact.

Rushing down the hallway, she pushed her way into the stairwell. The door barely settled in its frame before it was pushed again. A hand fastened itself to her elbow, and she didn't have to turn to know that Derek was breathing agitatedly at her back.

"Stop following me," she said angrily, snatching her elbow from his grasp.

He walked around her to face her. "I don't want you to go out with him," he uttered clearly, his eyes burning into hers daringly.

Meredith threw her hands up in the air disbelievingly. "Are you freaking kidding me?" she sputtered.

His thick eyebrows knitted in a dark frown that hovered low over his stormy eyes. "He's my friend, Meredith. You can't date my friend."

"What number is that rule? Is it before the one that says 'you can't lie about being married' or after the one about having casual flings with your ex-girlfriend?" she mocked.

The hurt look in his eyes twisted something in her heart, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and apologize. "Meredith, please," he begged.

"No, Derek, forget it. Go tend to your wife, and while you're at it, stay out of my life!" She hurried down the stairs without chancing a glance at him. If she did, she thought she would go back and make promises she didn't owe him.

The second floor was crowded when she reached it. Cristina smiled at her from the nurse's station and motioned for her to come closer.

"How does sushi sound?" she offered. "Burke's inviting," Cristina added with an impish grin.

"Sounds fine," she sighed with resignation. Her mind was still reeling with Derek's desperate pleas and Zack's persuasive eyes.

"You're not fine," Cristina pressed with a worried frown.

Covering her face with her hands, she inhaled deeply. "No, I'm not."

"I heard it's sushi night," Izzie beamed excitedly, materializing eagerly at Meredith's side. "Am I invited?"

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Sure, you can come."

The tall blonde stuck her tongue out childishly before turning to Meredith. "By the way, Mer, Green Eyes is absolutely gorgeous. I heard he has a thing for you," she rambled animatedly.

"Seriously? Green Eyes as in Zachary Pres… Congressman Zachary Preston. Seriously!" Cristina pinned her with an incredulous look.

Izzie shrugged. "McGreen-Eyes?"

Meredith smiled lightly. "Too tacky," she said thoughtfully. "Green Eyes is fine."

Cristina looked mortified. "Mer, _you're_ not fine."

* * *

Things will start picking up in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one. :) Your reviews are cherished and motivating!

Thanks for continuing to read this story:)


	5. Chapter Five: I Just Can't Live A Lie

Disclaimer: If I owned Grey's Anatomy, I would be very busy devising plots to get McDreamy and Meredith back together. Sadly, I don't own it.

Author's Note: I can't thank all of you enough for your wonderfully encouraging reviews! Seriously, thank you so much! I'm grateful that so many people are enjoying this story. As always, your reviews are much appreciated. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Chapter Five:** _I Just Can't Live A Lie  
_"Could I forget about the way it feels to touch you?  
And all about the good times that we've been through  
Could I wake up without you everyday?  
And would I let you walk away?"  
I Just Can't Live A Lie – Carrie Underwood

* * *

The rain fell on his shoes, erasing dirt stains he had long since forgotten. In the dim lights of the trailer's porch, he stared at the visible sheets of water with disinterest and raised the can of beer he had fished from the refrigerator to his lips. The cool liquid was tastelessly bitter on his tongue. His feet were soaked, and his back felt sore where it was pressed against the hard metal.

The time had come.

He took another swig of Heineken's finest.

For a while, he listened to the awkward pattern of raindrops slamming into the trailer's extended shed, knowing that he was entering the painful temporary stage of denial. He couldn't indulge in the denial for long, couldn't pretend that sharing the same weather with her but not the same bed didn't make his chest clench. He was there, brushing past her in long crowded hallways, bumping into her slim shoulder, making it seem like he wasn't aching to inhale the very scent of her into his being. He was there. She was everywhere, sweetly parting her lips for the crude invasion of his cheating tongue, curling her slim fingers into his hair in a way that made him throb with lust. He wanted her in every dangerous meaning the word entailed.

The door swung open, throwing a glaring rectangle of luminous light onto his face. He winced and cupped a hand across his brow to shield his eyes.

She closed it quickly after joining him on the porch, wrapped in a long synthetic green robe that flattered her figure. Her eyes took in his disheveled form and soaking shoes.

"Derek, what on earth are you doing?" She sounded fairly appalled at his state.

He swallowed the last of the can's contents and carefully set it on the floor. "I'm sitting," he stated the obvious with an inane gesture of his hand.

She looked at his shoes again, tempting him to take them off and hand them to her. "Your shoes are…"

"So are my socks," he interrupted, looking up at her with a tiny smile of self-pity.

"You're not drunk." She slipped her hands into the visible pockets of her dress-robe. "Are you?"

"No, Addison, I'm sober, just had one can of beer," he said, reaching for the empty can and placing it where she could see it. She had nothing to say to that. He imagined she wanted to tap her foot impatiently, but she didn't. "I've been thinking," he began reluctantly.

Her thin eyebrows dove into a frown of concentration. "Yes?" she prodded.

"I want to go back to New York."

She gaped at him in a way that put cartoons to shame. He looked away.

"Really?" she squeaked.

His stomach turned sickly as he felt himself nod. "I," his voice faltered. Clearing his throat, he dragged a hand through his hair. "I think it's best for – for us, our marriage," he explained, resorting to the clinical tone he had acquired during his internship and abandoned with his residency.

With her perfectly layered red hair, she beamed at him and clasped her hands like an enchanted bride. "I can't agree more," she countered, pausing for an indecisive moment. "Why?" she asked suddenly.

His head snapped towards her. He blinked at her several times. "What?"

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Her giddiness was replaced with well-placed suspicion.

He went for an indifferent shrug. "I realized that it would be better for us."

"Just that?" she asked with disbelief.

"Just that."

"Really, Derek? It has nothing to do with a certain surgical intern who…"

"Addison."

"If something's been happening, it's my right to…"

"Stop," he thundered sulkily, pinning her with a dark glare.

She met his stare evenly, unperturbed. "Fine, Derek, we'll go back to New York." She pulled the door open viciously, and the hinges screeched in protest. It slammed after her irritatingly.

Derek pulled his feet from under the rain, setting the heavy shoes beneath his drawn knees. Wasn't it also the truth that he didn't want to stick around to watch the relationship between her and his high school best friend blossom? Zack and Meredith. She would like him, possibly even fall in love with him. He would definitely adore her.

"_Is it that I'm a congressman?" _

"_You are a congressman."_

"_Are you impressed?"_

He cursed the can for being empty and wished he'd slipped into Joe's after his shift.

He was going to New York.

----

Last night, six days after his surgery, Zack had been discharged. Having been on discharge duty, Izzie had reported the details of his departure in painful detail, specifying the loose Armani tag on the butt of his jeans and the drool-worthy way his ribbed dark sweater clung to his chest. A handful of reporters had greeted him in Seattle Grace's reception.

Meredith remembered his shaven face and bright smile from the ten o'clock news, reluctantly admitting to herself that his presence would be missed. She had visited him twice a day since the surgery, sometimes under the guise of duty but mostly just to relieve the stress of her day because he made her smile.

She walked unhurriedly down the hallway, stopping when Cristina spoke from behind her.

"You totally waited for him in the news," she accused.

Meredith raised her eyebrows and swiveled with a small smile. "I didn't _wait_," she protested, rolling her eyes at Cristina's incredulous stare.

"Seriously, Mer, my mother would be proud," she said mockingly. "Your would-be boyfriend is worthy of the news."

"Cristina!" She looked around quickly to see if anyone had overheard. No one noteworthy stuck out; Addison was talking to a nurse at the end of the hallway. Her pager beeped. "That's Bailey," she muttered, starting towards the stairwell.

Cristina followed her until she reached the door. "You think he'll make a reappearance?"

She feigned blissful ignorance. "Who?"

"Green Eyes."

"Doubtful," Meredith said, her voice low as she pulled the heavy door open. Slipping through it, she disregarded Cristina's mumbled 'doubtless' and hurriedly began to take the stairs. Before she reached the next floor, Derek and the chief pushed their way into the stairwell. She caught a snippet of their conversation that made her stop dead in her tracks, hidden out of view.

"… losing the best neonatal surgeon in the area and my head of neurosurgery all at once is a lot," the chief was saying.

"I know that, Richard. We are really sorry we have to do this. Addison and I decided it would be best for our marriage if we got away from Seattle," Derek said patiently.

Meredith reminded herself to breath and stood rooted to the ground as they paused at the foot of the stairs.

"I understand," Richard murmured. "You're a Manhattan guy."

From her place at the curve of the stairs, she could see the lop-sided smile on Derek's face.

"I'm a Manhattan guy," he echoed. "We'll be leaving at the end of the week."

She was at the risk of hyperventilating.

"Thank you for the two-week notice," the chief said with finality, extending his hand towards the other man. Derek shook it firmly. "You know your position here is yours whenever you want it," he added, his voice dropping at the informality.

Derek laughed. "That is unprofessional," he grinned.

Chief Webber nodded and smiled slightly. "Doctor Shephard."

"Chief Webber." They shared a nod, after which the chief left through the same door and Derek stood silently for a long moment.

Grasping the railing with bloodless fingers, she took hesitant steps down the familiar rungs, not trusting her knees to hold still. He looked up when she came into view, and the longing look he gave her almost made her regret fighting tooth and nail to avoid him all week. She really hoped she didn't look as stricken as she felt, but she probably did because Derek reached for her the moment she was within arm's distance and gently helped her to the bottom of the stairs.

She looked at his hand where it lingered in the crook of her elbow, and he removed it as if she had asked him to.

"Hey," he said finally, studying her with concern. "Are you okay?"

Meredith didn't trust herself to meet his eyes. "Yeah, fine," she whispered faintly, brushing past him. "Bailey paged me," she offered as an explanation as she hastily exited the stairwell. Her eyes were burning, and she felt she would burst with the need to cry. Derek was leaving.

Derek was packing his suitcases. Actually, to be more precise, Addison was packing Derek's suitcases, and they were leaving, going back to New York. The thought made her sick.

"Grey! What took you so long?" Bailey prattled irately.

"I was um…"

"Never mind," Bailey wove her off. "O'Malley's on it. Take over sutures in the pit."

George looked at her for the full length of a minute. On any other occasion, she would have been secretly pleased that he was finally coming around, but his concern failed to touch her. She felt numb.

Derek was leaving.

----

She wore the shoes she had in common with the rape victim, Allison. Her hair was knotted precariously at the nape of her neck, allowing a few tendrils to curl at her cheeks and across her forehead. Shutting her locker soundly, she slid her purse over her shoulder and clutched it under her arm. Her shift was finally over.

When she stepped out of the locker room, Derek was there.

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes and continued walking. He followed her.

"Meredith, can we please talk for a minute?" he pleaded. "Please."

She stopped without warning, and he almost bumped into her, softly murmured an apology and regarded her closely. "What?" she asked, exasperated. For an entire week, she had avoided him, took the stairs when she thought he would be in the elevator, peeked into rooms before stepping in. She had taken measures, and now he was leaving. She couldn't secretly steal glances at him when they were in the same room. She couldn't go to sleep knowing he was ten minutes away. She couldn't openly stare at him from the gallery. He would be somewhere else with people she had never met, with Addison and Mark in Central Park and the Empire State Building.

He touched her cheek. "I'm going back to New York," he said softly.

She moved her head, sidestepping his touch and readjusted the purse on her shoulder. "That's good," she managed with a tight-lipped smile. She sailed down the stairs, in the direction of the lobby, and he was still at her heels, dressed to go home or spend a quiet evening at Joe's.

Derek caught her wrist and tugged, bringing her to a hesitant stop. "Meredith," he addressed her in a soothing tone. "Are you okay?" His hand slid into hers, rubbing it in a gesture meant to comfort.

She wondered if nurses and doctors were stopping to look at them awkwardly. Lifting her eyes to his, she parted her lips to release a calming breath. He inhaled it sharply as if to savor it. Tears pricked her eyes, and a weighty lump settled contentedly in her throat. Her hand felt weightless in his. She didn't think her voice was still in tact, so she nodded to his question and lowered her gaze to her shoes.

He dropped her hand. "Nice shoes," he said wryly, attempting to lighten the mood. "I heard a girl got raped in them once."

Meredith choked on her laughter and swallowed the ache in her throat, brushing at the corners of her eyes with her knuckles. "Don't remind me of that day."

He fell into step beside her. "You kissed me that day, in an elevator. I don't think I was ever kissed in an elevator before that." The reminiscent smile on his face was fond.

"You? Never kissed in an elevator? I don't believe that," she said lightly, contradicting the heaviness that pounded relentlessly in her chest.

"It's true. You're my first and only elevator kiss."

She smiled. "You're not mine," she said smugly.

His indigo eyes widened in surprise. "You've kissed someone else in an elevator?" He looked insulted.

"Maybe," she teased, slowing down as they reached the lobby.

Addison was waiting for him by the gate, sipping a warm drink from a Styrofoam cup. She didn't see them. Derek glanced at her before returning his gaze to Meredith's.

He looked at her with a dozen different emotions that she couldn't quite place.

"I hope you find what you're looking for in New York," she said softly, shaking him out of his musings.

Shifting from side to side, he inspected the strap of his laptop case with meticulous interest. "I just…"

"You don't have to say anything," she said quickly, and before he could say anything else, she added, "I have to go now."

Derek nodded. "Yeah, me too." His stare drifted to Addison, who was glowering in their direction.

"Have a nice night," she told him and stepped around him, walking towards the door. She felt him turn to watch her, felt his eyes on her back as they went their separate ways, and she told herself she was fine with it. She was fine with him leaving because it was for the best. She was fine with not seeing him everyday. She was fine. Period.

The doors opened long before she reached them, and he strode into the hospital like a vision. His hair was ruffled, rain-water clinging to the tips of the thick strands. He was grinning broadly, dressed in a pair of dark tailored slacks and an off-white turtleneck.

Meredith moved her lips several times before she heard her voice.

"Zack!"

He chuckled and came to a slow stop before her, leaving them standing toe-to-toe. "Meredith," he greeted her, his bright eyes shimmering into hers. She noticed the hand he'd held behind his back when he brought it out front, twirling the fragile stem of a dewy red rose between his thumb and his forefinger. "This is for you," he said huskily.

Wordlessly, she took the thorn-less stem from his fingers and brought the cool petals to her nose. "Thank you. Hi," she smiled up at him. He was taller than she remembered, better looking, and he smelled positively magnificent.

"Look at that, your vocabulary's back," he teased.

She laughed softly and tried to step past him, but he blocked her path. "I see you're still in Seattle," she noted airily.

"I have some unfinished business. You see someone's been giving me a hard time," Zack trailed off, giving her a pointed look. "And I'm persistent."

"You _are_ persistent," she relented.

"I have reservations at the hottest spot in town," he offered in a tempting tone.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Have fun," she smirked breezily.

He was impervious to her attitude and seized her tiny waist with one arm before she could walk around him. Her gasp of surprise fell on deaf ears as he turned her around, reversing their positions. Over his broad shoulder, she saw Derek watching them while Addison slipped into her coat.

"You're coming to dinner with me," Zack was saying.

"You came in here actually believing that?" she asked with faux haughtiness.

He smiled crookedly. "The routine was supposed to work." Folding an arm over his chest, he brought his other hand to his chin, pretending to ponder a matter of grave importance. "This," he gestured with his hand, pointing briefly at the rose she was still holding, "was supposed to sweep you off your feet." He regarded her seriously.

Meredith fought a fit of laughter and grinned at him easily. "It did sweep me off my feet."

"It did," he realized, and a slow smile creased the sides of his eyes.

Derek and Addison came up beside them with matching terse smiles on their faces. She guessed the source of Addison's and saw the evidence of Derek's in the clenched fist he shoved into the pocket of his jacket.

"Hello, Zack," Addison acknowledged him with a passively familiar kiss to his cheek where he muttered a toneless 'hello'.

"Hey, Shep!"

Derek shook his hand heartlessly. "Hi, Zack, still in Seattle," he observed with a real effort at lightness.

Meredith felt ill at ease when the three of them looked at her with diverse emotions flitting across their features. Zack was tender. Addison was hostile. Derek was furious.

"Yeah, I decided to stay for a while longer."

"Are you two heading somewhere?" Addison asked curiously, casting a sharp glance in Derek's direction. He glared at her in response.

"I have reservations at Volterra if Meredith would let me take her," he said cheekily.

"One of the best Italian restaurants around, I hear," Addison chimed in.

Derek's jaw twitched.

Zack shrugged. "I haven't tried it. A friend told me about it."

"You two have a nice night," Derek put an end to the excruciating conversation. His pleasant, lighthearted tone was belied by the tension he exuded.

"You, too, Shep. We'll get around to doing something before you leave to Manhattan."

The married pair nodded and waved laconically as they left the hospital.

Exhaustion rained on her. When she turned back to face him, he was gazing at her worriedly. She forced a smile. "I'm still not going out with you," she said sweetly, turning on her heel. She took purposeful steps towards the door, listening as he sighed in what sounded an awful lot like resignation.

"I have your number," he called after her.

Pausing, she turned her face slightly, giving him her profile. "No, you don't."

He came up behind her and placed a large hand on her back, gently walking her towards the doors. "Yes, I do," he insisted.

She let him lead her towards the parking lot. "How?"

As she unlocked her car, he opened the door for her. "Izzie," he answered, closing the door when she was safely tucked inside.

She gaped at him through the rain-splattered window and rolled it down quickly. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he confirmed. "I'll call you."

Meredith shook her head at him, smiling slightly and putting the car in reverse. "Bye, Zack."

He waved at her and, in her rearview mirror, he watched her until she pulled out of the garage.

Sighing wearily, she steered the car to the townhouse. She had to think about things like Zack and Derek and what motivation was going to drag her out of bed every morning without the promise of Derek's face, smiling or scowling. She had to think, but all she wanted to do was cry, sob until she could drown in her pillows and sleep past the dawn.

After parking the car, she unlocked the door to a quiet house and was unquestioningly thankful for the little blessing. She rushed up the stairs, stepped into her bedroom and shut the door, falling face first onto her queen-sized bed.

She imagined Doc would have to go, and that unleashed her tears.

* * *

That's it for now. I'll try to post the next chapter soon. Feedback is craved and much-much-loved!

Thank you for reading:)


	6. Chapter Six: Do What You Have To Do

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, well except for Congressman Zachary Preston (yay for me).

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews! I loved reading each and every one of them (over and over again). I apologize for the delay in this chapter and for the ugly typo in the last chapter. It's somewhere in the middle instead of breath (the noun), there should be breathe (the verb). Ugly, I know. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's somewhat of a filler.

**Chapter Six:** _Do What You Have To Do  
_"I'm ever swiftly moving,  
Trying to escape this desire.  
The yearning to be near you,  
I do what I have to do.  
But I have the sense to recognize  
That I don't know how to let you go."  
Do What You Have To Do – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

He wasn't precisely sure what he was doing, just that he wasn't inclined to stop anytime soon. The car didn't complain, and he really wasn't feeling tired. At least, that was what he told himself as he made the same turn for what he vaguely assumed was the eighth time. His foot eased down on the brakes, rubber sneakers curving, slowing the car to a near stop by the townhouse. Again, he noted the dim light glowing from her bedroom window, starkly bright against the otherwise dark house. The bedside lamp, he had decided with the third turn. 

It wasn't hard to conjure an image of her, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, pretending even in solitude that she was fine. He imagined her hair, golden and silky fanning on a white pillow, her small body dwarfed in the queen-sized bed, and the thought almost tempted him to join her, kiss her lips until they were swollen, make love to her until he filled her so completely, she would never think of another man. He entertained such thoughts as he tried to find the courage to break the safe shell of his warm car and venture to the porch where a forlorn tree with pointy leaves sat alone. She had danced on that porch, a bottle of tequila posing as the perfect partner to the seductive sway of her body. In her drunken haze, she had found him, placed timid hands on his chest and returned his fervent kisses.

_Take me for a ride, Derek._

A loud horn pierced the silence, and a pair of irritable incandescent headlights flashed in his rearview mirror. He cursed extensively and steered the car into her parking-space, effectively blocking her blue jeep in. The green sedan sped past him, and he glared at the red taillights that retreated into the night.

Derek curled and uncurled his fingers around the leather-encased steering wheel more times than he could count. Had he really seen Zack hook an arm around her waist and place his hand on her hip? Had she really let him? It bothered him a lot more than he had thought it would. He'd actually been tempted to punch the living daylights out of his childhood best friend. Had she gone with him to Volterra? No, he thought absently. Evidently, she was in her bedroom. A disturbing notion struck him like a bolt of lightening. What if Zack was with her?

All ten fingers plowed into his hair, raking through it mercilessly. He tried to erase the picture that happily painted itself in his mind's eye: Zack with his hands in Meredith's hair, Meredith kissing Zack in a way he ridiculously liked to believe was reserved for him, Zack and Meredith having sex. His fist came down hard on the steering wheel, prompting the horn of his car to blare alarmingly.

He swallowed and breathed rapidly, dispelling the uncontainable rage that threatened to consume him.

This was bad, very bad.

After leaving her with Zack in the hospital, he had walked with Addison to Joe's where they'd shared a single malt scotch. In his entire life, Derek had never felt more preoccupied than during that one hour he had spent with his wife. Not one to miss a hint, Addison had picked up on his mood, casually tossing in remarks about what a handsome man Zachary Preston was and how he and Meredith made a delightful couple. He wondered now if she knew how loathsome she had been to his bruised heart. He didn't think she did. He didn't think she suspected how truly affected he had been by their easy banter. When her pager had announced an emergency, Derek had been glad to see her go, not that he would ever admit the fact to anyone.

"_I've got to go," Addison muttered. _

_He nodded with understanding, grateful that she didn't offer him a goodbye kiss. "You go ahead. I'll be on my way home shortly," he lied, flashing a brief smile at her dubious expression._

Joe had given him a knowing look when he'd slipped out of the bar minutes after she'd left. Climbing into his car, Derek had let himself be led to her house and had been circling it aimlessly for longer than he believed was healthy. Not that there was anything healthy about their relationship. This, lingering underneath her window like a lovesick teenager, was exactly why he believed returning to New York was the best option. Not only was he well out of his teenage years, he was also married and had been for the better part of his adulthood.

_We're adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?_

He felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He wished he had an answer to the question she had thrown at him that day before walking off, leaving him staring after her in wonder. Had he not been an adult, he would have offered no explanation for his irrational behavior. Raging hormones would have explained his infatuation with Meredith Grey.

He reached for the radio and turned it up, hoping the music would help fill the sudden seclusion that descended upon the car.

The firm tapping on his window startled him into glancing up sharply. His eyes met Izzie's hazel ones through the dusty glass. She looked displeased at best. He pushed a button that automatically lowered the sleek window.

"Hey Izzie," he said lamely, smiling at her sheepishly.

"Hello, Doctor Shephard, is your car broken?"

He supposed he deserved the caustic remark. "I was just…" Looking past her helplessly, he shrugged. "You know," he said finally.

She shook her head with blatant disapproval. "Go home, Doctor Shephard," she advised him, her voice kinder.

The softness around her eyes compelled him to talk. "I want to talk to her," he told her hastily, offering a quick justification for the reason his car was parked in their driveway well past midnight.

She humored him with an appraisingly suspicious look. "Then why didn't you?"

"I thought she would be…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably and studied his blurry reflection in the windshield. "I thought Zack would be…"

"He's not," she asserted, and he expelled a breath of relief he hadn't been aware was trapped in his chest.

"Can I?" It was ridiculous that he was asking her permission, but she was definitely the one in control. And she had given him the best piece of news he had heard all night. Zack wasn't in there occupying the spot Derek had warmed for the most blissful weeks he had known.

"No, Derek," she refused, surprising him by the informal use of his first name. "You know better."

He smiled wryly. "If I knew better, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

She shrugged diligently. "I don't suppose you would."

The car's engine died when he turned the key, and his hand closed around the door-handle. She moved away, giving room to the opening door and watched him lock his car without protesting. They didn't say anything else as he followed her into the townhouse, his heart drumming erratically against his ribcage. Izzie made her way to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the foyer.

He looked around at the designs he had memorized by heart and habit, the dimness of the lights, the shades of the colors, and he remembered things that were best forgotten. He remembered Meredith, fragile and broken after the explosion, standing before him in that very same foyer, divulging the secret of lavender.

_Lavender. My hair smelled like lavender from my conditioner. _

The steps were familiar beneath his feet and he climbed them rapidly, striding down the hallway until he reached her bedroom.

The door was closed. He raised his hand, his knuckles aiming for the polished wood before he decided against knocking. Turning the knob as quietly as possible, he was relieved to find the door unlocked and pushed it open slowly.

His breath caught at the sight of her. She was sleeping in the middle of the enormous bed, curled into a fetal position, her hair spread on the pillow tucked snugly beneath her head. She had changed into loose pajama pants the color of the sky and a faded white t-shirt that looked dreadfully old and that she hadn't grown out of.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

He tried not to deliberate over the noticeable fact and focused on her face. The puffy redness of her eyes and nose told him she had cried herself to sleep, and Derek felt his throat tighten at the implication. He wanted to thread his fingers through her hair and hold her until the last of her tears were dried.

_And then what?_ a little voice inside his head argued. Then he would travel to New York and cause her even more pain.

His heart lurched with tenderness, and he grew restless with the burning desire to snuggle beside her. He craved to comfort her and arouse her beyond reason. It wasn't helping him any that her breasts were as good as naked.

"Is she asleep?" Izzie whispered to him, and he almost jumped out of his skin.

He felt heat rise in his face and turned around quickly to find her peering over his shoulder. "Yes," he answered quietly, pushing her out of the bedroom and pulling the door with him. It latched into place with little noise.

She stared at him perceptively. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," he mumbled gruffly, walking back towards the stairs. "Goodnight."

He thought he heard her return the murmur but wasn't entirely sure. His phone was ringing when he reentered the car, and he picked it up halfheartedly, guessing that the only person who had the right and gall to call him at such an hour was Addison. He started the car before accepting the call and propping the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

"Hey Addison," he said into the phone. The image of Meredith's heaving breasts beneath her translucent shirt plagued his mind, stirring his libido.

"_Where are you?"_

She didn't sound very pleasant, and Derek wasn't sure he was entirely in the mood to deal with a temper tantrum. He considered crashing in a hotel for the night or in an on-call room but decided against it. After all, the whole point was working on his marriage, and spending a night imagining all the creative ways he could have interrupted Meredith's troubled sleep wouldn't exactly do wonders to his distorted version of wedded bliss. With that in mind, he sighed loudly enough for her to hear him.

"I'm on my way," he told her. "I just left Joe's." Lies had a funny way of creeping their way into every conversation he had with his wife. There was a long silence on the other end of the line, as if she was trying to decide if she would call him on it or not. She could have easily dropped by Joe's before going home.

"_Oh."_

He suppressed another sigh of relief. "I'll see you in a couple of minutes," he promised, and the awkward phone call ended.

He wondered if deep inside he actually believed he and Addison could sort through their problems. He supposed she would be willing. They had passed a number of good years in Manhattan, laughing, talking, having relatively good sex and brownbag lunches on high buildings. It had been normal, routine even, but he had enjoyed that routine. She seemed ready to fall back into that routine like the past months hadn't taken place, like she hadn't shared their marital bed with his best friend, like he hadn't met Meredith Grey. Derek liked to think he was ready for the normal, too, but what he feared made his heart go still for a moment.

What if it was impossible for him to feel normal again? What if relatively good sex couldn't compete with wonderful earth-shattering sex?

What if Meredith had branded him for life?

----

The city had awoken to a beautiful morning, sunny skies, pretty clouds, refreshing breeze. Everyone seemed to be smiling, or maybe she was scowling so deeply that every other human expression looked positively giddy.

She was cranky.

Having cried herself to sleep the night before, Meredith woke up not to a brilliant dawn but to the nightmare of gazing through the airport terminals at a plane that quickly disappeared into the horizon. Derek was on that plane with Addison and Doc. She brushed her teeth with a viciousness that tore the images from her mind. Wiping her mouth with the towel Derek had claimed, she scowled at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Hints of redness lingered about her eyes, alluding to the tearful night she had spent. With an efficient toss, the towel landed in the corner of the bathroom, discarded as she applied a whisper of concealer to the delicate skin. Satisfied with the results, she slung her bag over her shoulder and trudged down the stairs.

The kitchen was brightly lit, jolly sunlight pouring in from every window. Izzie was patiently waiting on the dripping coffee and lifted her head to greet Meredith with a huge sunny smile.

"Good morning, Mer!" Izzie, along with the other half of the population, was _happy_.

"The coffee's mine," she mumbled grouchily, opening the refrigerator swiftly. She scanned the contents with distaste and finally pulled a half-eaten cinnamon bun from its box.

"Well, someone's unusually grumpy," Izzie muttered, giving her a curious once-over with well-rested eyes. She poured the coffee into Meredith's favorite mug and handed it to her. "I take it you aren't too happy Green Eyes reappeared."

She paused mid-bite into the cinnamon doughnut, licking her sugar-coated lips before looking Izzie in the eyes. "Derek and Addison are going back to New York," she reported mechanically and sipped the scalding coffee. It stung her tongue and whipped the roof of her mouth as Izzie's eyes grew round with realization.

"Oh," she whispered, killing the coffee machine. She filled her mug to the brim and carefully sipped it. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Meredith answered confidently. "I'm perfectly okay. This is for the best, right, Iz? I mean this arrangement in Seattle is only making things harder for Addison and for me." She piled her hair over one shoulder and walked to the door.

"And for Derek," Izzie added helpfully, following her through the house, out the front door and into her jeep. "Basically for Derek."

"I'll get over him," she asserted with more firmness than she was feeling. "I will, won't I?" And within that simple inquiry lurked the better part of how uncertain she was of the future of her feelings for him.

"Sure you will!" the blonde exclaimed, covering her lips with the mug. It was a lie. They both knew that, but she didn't care to point it out. "On a scale from one to ten, how pissed are you that I gave Green Eyes your number?" She eloquently changed the subject.

"About five," she replied, glaring at the coffee that sloshed as she brought the car to a sudden halt at a red light.

Izzie was frowning. "Five? What's that supposed to mean?" She took the last piece of Meredith's cinnamon bun and crammed it into her mouth.

"A five is a five," she said calmly.

"It's like a middle number. From six to ten, that would range from pissed to furious; zero to four is mild, but five is just…"

"Five," Meredith finished for her.

"You called me last night to chew me out about giving him your number, but you didn't even sound that angry. So, really, how pissed are you?"

"A little," she conceded. "Okay, not really."

Izzie giggled. "You are _so_ into him," she accused.

"I'm not the one who gave him _my_ phone number," Meredith pointed out.

"I'm sorry about that. He's just so…" she seemed at a loss for the perfect word to describe the congressman.

A few came to Meredith's mind. "Gorgeous?" she supplied.

"… charming," Izzie decided. "Definitely charming." She sighed and shook her head wistfully.

Meredith gave her a suspicious sideways glance. "You _are_ dating Alex, aren't you?"

"Feeling threatened?" she teased.

"No!"

"Did you just call him gorgeous by the way?"

"Shut up," she mumbled, haphazardly parking the car before the hospital.

Izzie lifted her hands innocently and smirked before sliding out of the car. "I don't understand this new withholding policy," she told her as they entered the hospital and waited for the elevator.

Meredith gave her a chilling look.

"If you don't get Bambi off my back, I'm going to kill someone," Cristina muttered under her breath, wedging herself between them. She glanced at them both and raised her eyebrows. "Burke told me that Green Eyes showed yesterday."

"What?" Meredith sputtered incredulously. "_Burke_ told you?"

Cristina shrugged, and Izzie stifled a grin. "He saw the two of you in the lobby with Derek and Addison. What was that all about?" she asked with a grimace, propelling herself into the empty elevator as soon as the doors opened.

"I wish I had more privacy," she hissed, her voice bitter. Their shocked stares fell on her.

"Derek and Addison are going back to New York," Izzie murmured for Cristina's benefit.

"Seriously?" Cristina's expression was the closest to a gasp it had ever come.

"Yes, seriously," Meredith interfered, inserting a wintry smile. "Before you ask: yes, I'm okay. And I can hear you with all the whispering, so just stop it!"

She stormed out of the elevator and flew right into Derek. The collision sent her bag to the floor spilling most of its contents on the spotless linoleum ground. Derek had saved her of the same fate by wrapping both arms around her middle, conveniently having one hand on her behind.

"Great! Just freakin' great!" she mumbled, squirming in his arms. He didn't attempt to alter their position, his eyes too busy scanning her features with concern.

"Good morning, Doctor Grey." Addison sounded as spiteful as she was feeling.

As if on cue, Derek's arms released her.

"Good morning," she returned the greeting with as much pleasantry as she could muster, which wasn't much. Squatting down, she gathered her belongings and stuffed them into the bag. She wondered if Cristina and Izzie had already passed.

"Here, I'll help you," Derek offered, bending to pick up her shirt. He thrust it at her and stared hard at the wilted rose beneath it. Addison's heels clicked past them deliberately. When he made no move to reach for the flower, Meredith leaned before him and picked it up, slipping it into the bag. With a hand under her elbow, he helped her to her feet.

"Thanks," she smiled at him briefly, knowing that he saw through the fakeness of it. In his own way, Derek looked like he'd gotten as much sleep last night as she had. Her anger melted at the weariness of his look, and she ached to smooth the taxing frown from his brow.

"You can come crashing into me anytime you like," he joked dryly.

Her expression hinted at an amused smile that she didn't feel. "I'll see you," Meredith said quietly. She wanted to kiss him. The urge to reach for him and savor his lips with soft kisses was so potent that she hurriedly stepped past him and made her way to the locker room. She ambled in with Bailey, ignoring the snide look her boss favored her with.

"Come on, people, rounds!"

* * *

I promise more action next chapter. I just wanted to give some insight into their feelings, and it ran kinda too long. I'm sorry about that. Feedback is much-loved and cherished! 

Thanks a ton for reading:)


	7. Chapter Seven: Breathe Again

Disclaimer: If I had any claim on Grey's Anatomy, I would know _exactly_ what these promos are all about. As it is, I don't own anything, except this story and Zachary Preston. Otherwise, everything belongs to Shonda and the ABC people.

Author's Note: I'm so grateful to all of you for the wonderful reviews. So thank you so much, and please don't hesitate to comment! Your reviews are highly motivating. I wanted for this to be out sooner, but I've had a horrible eventful week. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's kind of long. I know my chapters are getting longer, but they're sort of writing themselves… so… enjoy!

**Chapter Seven:** _Breathe Again  
_"I can't stop thinking about,  
About the way my life would be.  
No, I can't stop thinking about,  
How could you love me then leave?  
And I can't get you out of my head;  
How in the world will I begin?  
To let you walk right out of my life,  
And throw my heart away."  
Breathe Again – Toni Braxton

* * *

"You know he came to see her last night." The thick chart in her hand hung limply at her side. 

Alex met her gaze in confusion. "Who?" he asked and turned to type something on the computer before hitting the search button. White light from the small screen cast a strange shadow across the dim office.

"McDreamy came to see her last night," Izzie clarified, propping herself up on the desk before him. She drummed her fingers in time with the soft drone of the computer.

The shutters to the office tucked behind the nurses' station were open, and he stared through them for a moment before looking at her again. "McDreamy as in Doctor Shephard, and her as in Meredith," he said thoughtfully. "Well, did Meredith say anything? Cause she seems very…"

"Unhappy?" Izzie suggested, earning a distracted nod. "The thing is… she doesn't exactly know that he came to see her," she admitted, tucking imaginary stray golden locks of hair behind her ears guiltily. "She was asleep."

"You didn't tell her that he came to see her?" he asked disbelievingly. His eyebrows were arched high above his green-tinted eyes in censure. It wasn't like Izzie to keep something from her friends, especially if that something was related to them.

"Who came to see whom?" Cristina intervened, piling her unruly hair into a loose ponytail as she joined them in the office.

Izzie groaned and rolled her neck tensely. "McDreamy," she mumbled.

"McDreamy came to see Meredith? I can't believe she didn't tell me!" She looked alarmingly injured and planted her hands on her hips defensively.

Alex regarded her with amusement. "Relax, she doesn't even know," he said, casting a pointed look in Izzie's direction.

Cristina whirled on Izzie, nailing her with a dark stare that was hard to define as anything but ominous. "McDreamy came to see Meredith, and you didn't tell her?"

Izzie's hazel eyes dropped to her fiddling hands. "She seems to be doing so well with Green Eyes. I just thought…"

"You think she's doing _well_? This morning, she was talking about privacy. Meredith never talks about privacy!" Cristina shook her head with blatant disapproval. "So, spill, what did he say?" she prodded nosily.

Sighing, Izzie hugged the chart to her chest and drew her feet onto the desk. "Nothing, not to me at least. He just seemed so sad, you know?"

Alex and Cristina shared a look devoid of sympathy for the man in question.

"You guys are unbelievable!" Izzie exclaimed with disdain, dividing a condemning glare between the two of them.

Alex shrugged and leaned back into his chair. "The guy's a jackass, Izzie. Meredith is better off without him," he said sensibly.

"You know I hate to say this, but Alex is right," Cristina sighed, giving him a look that warned him against the smug smile on his clean-cut face. "McDreamy is as selfish as they come," she concluded.

"He loves her," Izzie insisted, a frown etching itself to her smooth forehead. "You should have seen the look on his face when he left her room. He was all flushed and gruffness." She made random gestures with her free hand.

A devilish grin claimed Alex's lips. "Why? What was she wearing?"

Izzie's sneaker-clad foot made harsh contact with the outside of his thigh. He yelped in surprise as she brought her feet to the ground.

"You're disgusting!" she cried, loudly stalking out of the cramped office.

Cristina was staring at him when he met her bored eyes.

"What? Grey and the good doctor weren't exactly discreet about their bedroom habits. They were…"

"Loud," Cristina finished for him with a humorless smile. "Evil spawn," she muttered dismissively, turning to leave through the same door she'd stepped into.

"You're going to tell her," he accused.

Cristina looked at him over her shoulder incredulously. "And you're dateless tonight."

----

Meredith closed her eyes as she lowered her arms into the sink, letting the cool water jetting out of the faucet run over her skin. Fatigue washed over her with the rushing water, and she let out a weary sigh. She had just scrubbed in on an aortic aneurysm with Burke, during which the patient, fifty-two year old Sonny Fletcher, had flat-lined twice. Chances were he wouldn't make it through the night. She hoped he would. His daughter had been nervously abusing a napkin from the hospital's cafeteria when they'd found her in the waiting room. The young woman had sobbed hysterically when Burke had uttered the word complications. She and her father were close because from what Meredith gathered, her mother had left them years ago, and he hadn't remarried, choosing to devote his life to being a single, jilted parent. She envied them, despite the ugliness of their domestic story.

"I heard you and McDreamy _collided_." Cristina's voice came from behind her, and she turned just in time to see her palms crack in front of her as she demonstrated their collision. A questioning look resided in her shimmering dark eyes.

Meredith shrugged glibly and dried her hands and forearms with paper-towels that felt unusually scratchy against her skin. She didn't want to think about Derek or the way it had felt to have his arms around her. "You saw us," she pointed out.

Cristina nodded, and all but buzzed with a sense of activity that Meredith found herself lacking. "Did he totally grope you? Or was I imagining things?" she asked seriously, her voice just above a whisper.

Meredith smiled a little, remembering the firmness of the hand that had pushed into her rear. She didn't have doubts about whether or not the convenient feel-up was intentional. He had known exactly where his hand would land. "You were imagining things," she replied with reserve.

Her best friend knew her well enough to see through her cautious act. She shook her head. "He totally groped you," she insisted. "His hand was…"

"Cristina!" Meredith gave her a wide-eyed look and tossed the used tissues into the large garbage bin. Her index finger followed the curve of her eyebrow, smoothing it into place. "I had the worst night of my life," she muttered on a short breath, moving her hands to her hair where her fingers ran the tangles wrought by the scrub-cap before securing the golden mass into a disheveled bun. The obvious change of subject resulted in silence as they walked into the open elevator, and Cristina hit a button that brought the metallic doors together. Meredith sank into the corner and crossed her arms against her chest. It was her Derek-posture, and it made her feel bitter that by the end of the week she wouldn't see him in that corner again.

Cristina was unusually quiet, her eyes comically aimed at the tightly clamped doors. "McDreamy came to see you last night," she said quickly.

Meredith drew in a sharp breath and straightened stiffly. "What?" she croaked.

"Izzie told me earlier. Last night, while you were sleeping, he supposedly stood at your door, staring at you. I think that's when Izzie interrupted, and he left," she explained, finally raising her eyes to Meredith's defeated gaze.

She felt herself slumping against the wall. "Oh, God. Cristina, he's…"

"Selfish," Cristina said steadfastly.

Meredith had something more along the lines of _wonderful_ in mind. "How is he selfish if he watched me sleep?" she asked tiredly. If she had been awake, forbidden things would have tainted her bedroom, so it was just as well that she'd slept through his visit. Still, she felt the bitter taste of regret in the back of her throat.

"He knows he's leaving. He knows you still have feelings for him. He knows he should leave you alone. He knows he should stop being dreamy." She lifted four fingers and showed them to Meredith, as if the reasons she had just listed were painted on her hand. "But he doesn't. That's selfish."

Meredith heaved a long-suffering sigh and lifted herself dejectedly when they reached their floor. As fate would have it, the parting doors revealed Addison's sour down-turned expression.

Over the hustle and bustle beyond the opening doors, Cristina hissed, "Hello, queen of the grumps."

This was said for Meredith's ears, but it didn't make her smile. She supposed it was the guilt for having kissed and touched the woman's husband. Maybe it was because Addison had caught her in Derek's arms early in the morning, even if it was somewhat innocent. Maybe it was the expression on Derek's face when he'd seen the rose Zack had given her the day before. Whatever it was, Meredith felt nothing but sympathy for her.

"Doctor Yang, Doctor Grey." Addison didn't try to sound pleasant.

"Doctor Shephard," they chorused, slipping out of the elevator.

"Was that the death look or what?" Cristina whispered to her as they walked into the locker room.

Meredith's phone shrilled alarmingly. "You can't really blame her. Bad mornings do that to you," she said, digging the vibrating contraption out of her pocket. She opened her locker with one hand and flipped the phone open with the other, raising it to her ear. "Hello?"

"_I'm not staying in Seattle forever, you know." _

The familiar drawl brought the first genuine smile of the day to her face. Cristina looked at her with unveiled curiosity.

"That's a shame," she teased.

"_Real shame,"_ he agreed. _"Meredith,"_ he said softly, his deep voice lulling. The sound was a beckoning. _"I want to see you."_ He was no nonsense, straight to the point, honest to a fault.

She kept herself from believing that, at least the honest part. Once bitten, twice shy. "I…"

"_It's not a date or anything that falls in that category. It's a friends thing. We're friends, and I owe you for saving my life."_

Somewhere in the vicinity of her chest, the ache in her heart swelled. Just friends. _I could be your friend, Meredith._ Indigo eyes. Flashes of hurt. _I slept with George._ "You don't owe me anything. I'm a doctor," she stalled.

"_Humor me."_ He sounded fairly frustrated.

"Alright," she conceded finally. The grin she knew to be on his face was almost audible.

"_Meredith Grey, I knew you'd come around,"_ he gloated wittily, his voice light with humor.

"Zack," she warned.

"_Just friends,"_ he repeated resolutely. _"I'll pick you up from the hospital in ten minutes. Is that fine with you?"_

"Yeah, it's good."

"_Okay, see you."_

He disconnected, and Meredith stared at the phone thoughtfully before closing it and tossing it into the bag inside the locker. She was working herself into a sticky web. It was a horrible idea, but she plunged in head first anyway, lodging herself between two men bound by years of friendship.

"So," Cristina urged, just short of shaking the story out of her.

"What?" she asked, feigning nonchalance, partly because it was fun to watch Cristina bristle and partly because she really didn't want to talk about it.

"You're going out with Green Eyes." Cristina wasn't one to have regard for a feeling of temperance.

"As friends," Meredith added pointedly.

Cristina snickered childishly and stepped out of the scrub pants that pooled at her feet. "Yeah, sure, friends with Zachary Preston. Tell me how well that works for you," she said sarcastically.

"You could always try being supportive," Meredith suggested with a shallow frown.

"I'm supportive!" She pulled a purple sweater over her dark head. "You do realize his last name is Burke's first name, right?"

Meredith rolled her eyes at that as she slid her legs into a pair of ironed jeans and tucked her feet into the low-heeled suede, brown boots. "Right."

"You know, Mer, it wouldn't be wrong for the two of you to get involved."

"He's Derek's _good_ friend. It would be cruel."

"Need I remind you that Derek is married," she departed the fact much as one would describe the weather. "And he's going to New York."

Meredith caught the sleeves of her forest green turtleneck before sliding her arms into her jacket. "Maybe you're right," she said finally and shut her locker.

Cristina smiled surely. "Of course, I'm right."

She slid her bag over her shoulder, clutching it tightly under her arm and gave her reflection in the mirror a quick perusal. She looked overworked. "Hardly impressive," she mumbled to herself, letting her hair loose and arranging the waves that tumbled across her shoulders.

"Friends don't look good for each other," Cristina jabbed.

Meredith glared at her and pushed the door open with her shoulder. "I'm leaving now," she said in irritation and caught the beginning of Cristina's amused grin before strolling down the stairs.

Zack was already in the lobby when she reached it. His back was turned to her, and he was leaning over the counter, chatting animatedly with the chubby blonde from _information_. Derek was standing beside him, perusing a chart that didn't look very important and contributing a word every now and then.

She watched them from afar as Zack straightened and turned fully towards Derek. The expression on his face was grim, and he was scowling deeply. Derek said something brief, and she imagined his tone was the soothing hum that made her feel like mush on the inside. The fairer man shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his black denim pants and stretched his neck.

An arm dropped around her shoulders. Meredith silently turned to find Cristina's bemused smile.

"Beautiful men," she said appreciatively.

Meredith moved from under her friend's light arm and gave her a threatening look while pushing her car keys into Cristina's unsuspecting hand. "Tell Izzie to take the car." Drawing in a deep breath, she walked towards them at a deliberate pace. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself, managing to return the smile Zack favored her with as he caught sight of her. Derek's face underwent a metamorphosis that left it hard and cold. His blue eyes turned steely.

"Hi." She looked at Derek, who was still in his scrubs and lab-coat.

He returned her cautious stare with expressionless eyes that somehow communicated the intimacy of watching her sleep. "Hello, Doctor Grey," he said curtly.

"Ready to go?" Zack asked, interrupting the tactless glower Derek was directing at her.

She nodded automatically, her mind wandering to the breath-stealing sensation his lips provoked when pressed to the skin where her neck met her shoulder. She wondered where that had come from and felt the telling warmth of a blush climbing her neck. Meredith gave herself a mental shake and dropped her gaze to the ground, studying it with lame precision.

"So tomorrow at the bar across the street," Zack was saying.

"I get off at ten," Derek replied in agreement, and the faint grin that found his lips told her he had guessed the reason of her discomfort.

"Alright, then, I'll see you, Shep." Their handshake was short-lived. When Derek's arm dropped to his side, he said something insincere about enjoying their time and left them in the lobby.

She resisted the urge to stare after him and looked up at Zack instead. "What was that all about?" she asked, falling into step beside him as they exited the hospital.

"Derek and I are going for a drink before he and Addison leave to New York."

"I meant before." She knew she was prying, but there was something curious about the anger on his face after he'd spoken to the short woman from _information_. "You seemed a bit on edge."

He smiled down at her easily and draped a friendly arm around her shoulders. "Just settling something about the hospital bill." He led her towards a rented Mercedes that was a shiny black reflecting the hanging lights. The weather was chilly, but his body was warm as it brushed lightly against her side. "So, where do you want to go?"

She wanted to suggest Joe's. She was craving tequila. "Someplace that doesn't serve anything remotely alcoholic."

Grinning broadly, he opened the passenger seat's door for her and helped her into the car. He went around the fancy hood and agilely took his seat. "You have anything against drinking?" he queried with raised eyebrows.

The engine revved to life, and she glanced at him surreptitiously before saying, "I have nothing against drinking. The effects, however…"

A sparkle of renewed amusement danced in his green eyes. "That's it then. You do some pretty crazy things when you're drunk."

She smirked in a way that whispered of a secret. "You have no idea."

----

He fell back against the couch with a muffled thud, medical journal in hand, and propped his socked feet on the small square-shaped coffee table. The noises from the bedroom a couple of feet away were those of an outraged woman, boots slamming against the ground, random objects clattering, keys jingling vigorously. He crossed his feet at the ankles and flipped through the pages of the journal with disinterest, pretending to be engrossed just in case. He also pretended to be oblivious to the racket she was creating, which due to the size of his trailer was impossible.

His thumb and forefinger paused at the corner of the glossy page as she went into the bathroom and roughly pulled the door into its frame. He stretched his arm towards the table, reaching for the uncapped mouth of the vintage bottle of single malt scotch. He drank the gist straight from the bottle.

Zack and Meredith.

The thought of what they could be doing sent him over the edge. He felt sick to his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten anything before letting the alcohol into his system. He didn't understand this. Derek wasn't the jealous type. He knew that. At least he'd thought he'd known that. In high school, his steady girlfriend, Megan Sperry had reached desperate measures in an attempt to make him go green with envy. Even then, in his hotheaded teenage days, he hadn't been stirred to jealousy. He had been deeply wounded by finding Addison and Mark in the throes of passion, but jealousy had slipped past him, an emotion he'd realized he was better off without. Derek Shephard wasn't a jealous man. It was simple and true. But Meredith… Meredith brought out in him a fierce possessiveness that made him ache with envy at the mere idea of her association with another man.

Meredith turned him into a jealous fool.

"_That's what love's all about, Derek. There's going to be someone who'll bring out the best and the worst in you, someone who'll drive you crazy, someone who'll get you so riled up you could slap her or kiss her. And you know what? I really hope you find that someone."_

His sister had kissed both his cheeks and hugged him with complete disregard to the delicate material of her wedding dress, laughing when he'd whispered _sap_ teasingly into her ear.

The bathroom door swung open with force, and Addison emerged from inside to plant herself directly in front of him. He calmly tucked the bottle on the couch beside him, securing it with his arm. His gaze flickered to hers for a moment, then continued to skim the unread pages open over his lap.

"You are unbelievable!" she hissed venomously.

He turned the page as if he had accomplished a thorough examination of its contents.

"Look at me, Derek," she demanded. "Look at me." Her voice softened considerably, and Derek obliged, lifting his lifeless eyes to her face. "What do you see?"

He fought with the urge to snap at her and raised his free hand to rub his neck.

"What do you see?" she insisted.

"I see Addison. What the hell is this about?" His voice was quiet but carried the weight of irritation.

"Do you remember what you told me the last time I asked you this question?" She was twisting her wedding ring around her finger, a habit he found her falling into out of insecurity.

He didn't answer her question because he didn't remember. Instead, he stared at her vacantly.

"You said, 'I see the woman I love'," she told him, and she looked as drained as he was feeling. "What happened to us, Derek? And don't tell me it's just the adultery because you chose to work past that. You wanted to try."

The golden liquid warmed the inside of his mouth and trickled down his throat before he leaned forward and replaced the half empty bottle on the table. He swallowed tightly and lifted his gaze to her desperate expression. "Meredith," he said softly with an honesty that erased any doubt about the origins of their problems. "Meredith happened to us."

Her shoulders slumped under the burden of his admission, and a sheen of tears collected in her eyes. "That's why we're moving to Manhattan."

He didn't deny the statement and chose not to confirm it.

"What are we going to do, Derek?"

"Nothing," he said simply, closing the magazine and dumping it on the table as he came to his feet. "Right here, in Seattle, I can't give you anything." He grabbed his discarded jacket. "In Manhattan, I'll throw myself into making this work."

Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw her sweep a tear off her face and felt a stab of guilt. Maybe this time, the right thing to do was wrong. Derek shook his head and pulled on his jacket. The familiar porch lights were easy on his eyes, and his body curved into the uncomfortable chair. The night chill seeped through his socks, but it wasn't raining.

Doc came sniffing through the door he had left slightly ajar. The dog panted quietly and propped its furry chin on his knee. Derek smiled and ruffled the mat of fur between Doc's ears.

"She'll miss you."

----

The luxurious car rolled to a slow stop before the townhouse. Her jeep was parked in its usual place, and the light in the living room was still on. She lowered her eyes to her hands where they sat clasped in her lap. If the circumstances had been different, she and Zachary Preston, who had the most charismatic eyes, would have stumbled into her bedroom with fumbling hands and the rustle of zippers and buttons coming undone. As it was, she stayed awkwardly in her seat, oddly satisfied by having spent an entire evening talking and laughing with a man who wasn't technically her friend. He had claimed the title of friendship on several occasions, letting the word dwindle like an unfinished note while his casual touches left much to be desired. Meredith had played his game with a willingness that scared her because part of her knew for certain that this was her way of proving to herself and to the world that she could get over Derek.

"Nice house," Zack complimented the two-story building, his voice edging into her thoughts.

She glanced at him and found that he had rolled the sleeves of his maroon sweater to his elbows. "Yeah, it's my mother's."

He didn't ask about that, and she didn't offer any details. They fell into another comfortable silence that was safe and guarded, filled with secrets that didn't want to be spoken, things that were better left unsaid. It was an accord of sorts, she liked to believe, this unspoken agreement to not violate each other's privacy. They had drawn a line that neither was ready to cross.

"I had a great time tonight," she said finally, unbuckling her seatbelt.

He followed suit and tilted his face towards her. The streetlights illuminated his looming face, bringing his features into sharp focus. "So did I." He smiled faintly and raised a sure hand to her cheek.

She willed herself to ignore the haunting blue eyes that stared at her with profound hurt. The large palm cradled her face warmly, and she felt herself leaning into the masculine touch. It wasn't Derek's hand or his nimble fingertips. It wasn't Derek's breath that caressed her chin before soft lips that weren't Derek's parted against hers.

The kiss was short. His lips were open over hers, but he didn't send his tongue delving into her mouth. His hands didn't grope her in all the usual places. It was a sensual caress that had him smiling wistfully when he retreated into his seat.

"That wasn't very friendly," she murmured, pursing her lips together momentarily.

Zack gave a low chuckle and kept his green eyes trained on her face. "Really?" he asked with convincing seriousness. "I've never been friends with a woman before."

She raised her eyebrows in an I'm-not-buying-it way, and she didn't care to think what his statement meant. It didn't surprise her in the least. The congressman knew his way well around women. "I'm not surprised."

His smile fell to accommodate a displeased frown. "I can't say I'm not like that because I am." He stared through the windshield pensively.

The confession came audaciously close to the line. She understood that this was different, that he had never devoted much time to luring a woman. She was positively certain that she wasn't worth the effort, not when her heart wasn't her own, not when the man of her dreams had already taken shape in dark blue scrubs and dimpled smiles.

To avoid the unease of acknowledging what he'd said, she clasped the handle and pushed her door open. "Goodnight," she said softly.

He nodded, and she wasn't sure how he had taken her obvious escape. "Goodnight, Meredith."

She shuffled to get out of the car, but he caught her arm before she could leave. "Meredith," he said, probing her eyes searchingly. "Thank you for the kiss."

Easing her arm out of his grasp, she granted him a small smile. "You took it without asking." It was a try at restoring the lightheartedness that characterized their relationship, and it made him grin cockily.

"I will next time," he promised.

"There won't be a next time!"

He laughed at the unconvincing protest and glanced at her with amusement. "We'll see."

"Unbelievable," she muttered, slipping out of the car and closing the door. Her relief that the scene in the car hadn't turned into something awkward was acute. He waited until she opened the front door and stepped into the house. Waving at her teasingly, he pulled out of the driveway and diminished into the black night.

Meredith locked the door and silently made her way to the living room. Izzie was fast asleep on the couch, her neck bent at an awkward angle. A random sitcom was flickering across the flat television screen. She sat next to her and shook her lightly, wondering what Alex's absence meant.

"Izzie," she whispered. "Izzie, go to bed."

She squinted against the dim lighting and groggily shifted into a sitting position, flexing her stiff neck. "Mer? Did you just come in?"

"Yeah."

Izzie yawned and drowsily stood up. "McDreamy came to see you last night," she muttered sleepily.

"I know," she sighed. "I know." And she wished she didn't.

* * *

That's it for now. I'm promising more MerDer interaction next chapter. Until then, your feedback is much-loved and appreciated. 

Thank you for reading:)


	8. Chapter Eight: Tonight I Wanna Cry

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just borrowing them. But I do own Zachary Preston!

Author's Note: I can't thank all of you enough for your reviews. I love them, each and every one of them so much! Thank you all again and again! I look forward to reading your thoughts and comments whatever they are. This is late as usual, and I'm really really sorry! But I've been computer-less for days since I busted mine. Now it's back, and this was my priority… so here it is! Please, enjoy!

**Chapter Eight: **_Tonight I Wanna Cry  
_"I've never been the kind  
To ever let my feelings show.  
And I thought that being strong  
Meant never losing your self-control.  
But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain.  
To hell with my pride,  
Let it fall like rain from my eyes.  
Tonight I wanna cry."  
Tonight I Wanna Cry – Keith Urban

* * *

"It's definitely love," Ellis Grey sighed wistfully, raising herself against the pillow tucked behind her back. Her eyes shone with an antediluvian memory that throbbed fresh in her mind. "How do you explain love to a child?" A worried frown creased the wrinkles across her brow. "No, Meredith can't possibly understand what it's like to be in love. She won't accept it as an excuse for throwing her father out of the picture."

Meredith clasped the edge of the blanket that was neatly folded at the foot of the bed with more harshness than she intended and tugged it over her mother's restless limbs. The late-night visit to Roseridge had drawn more out of her mother than Meredith cared to know. Their evening was filled with random stories of illicit passionate interludes and caustic remarks about Thatcher Grey, who apparently had never done anything to please his wife. She had swallowed the sordid details of her mother's past with bitter difficulty, fighting the impulse to give Ellis Grey a piece of her mind.

She had fallen silent – one of the rarer moments of the visit – staring distractedly at the chair in the corner, lips twitching in irritation. Meredith watched her, afraid that her life had become a distorted reflection of the misery that plagued her mother. Destiny had a cruel way of taking her by the hand and guiding her along a winding road that left her back in the beginning, the place she had started the journey to escape. Leaning down, she brushed a fleeting kiss in her mother's thinning hair, feeling claustrophobic with the need to escape. The gesture went unnoticed, much as her sudden departure did. She closed the door quietly and walked through the home, nursing a growing contempt for the place.

She was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to curl inside a cocoon of pillows and comforters and hide. Maybe hiding from Derek's longing looks would give her the energy to shatter the fragile image of her mother that glared back at her in the mirror. Maybe hiding would make it easier to breathe when Derek left. Maybe hiding would make her strong enough to look Zachary Preston in his impossibly green eyes and deny her attraction to him, knowing that she could never love him, not the way she loved Derek.

Stepping into the cool night, she burrowed further into her white coat, trying to ward off the chill. At times like these, Derek would rub her hands between his larger, warmer ones and grin at her in a way that made her melt. She felt hollow and tried to remember the last time she'd slept through the night, the last time she hadn't felt like collapsing. When her memory returned empty, she swallowed the lump lodged in her throat and dug her key out of her large purse.

"Hi."

Her gaze swung from the keychain in her hands to the dark, shadowy figure looming behind her car. The furious beating of her heart had little to do with the fact that he had startled her and everything to do with the way he looked at her, his indigo eyes softening with an emotion that struck close to love. But Meredith Grey, who knew better, kept herself from foolishly believing it even as he offered a small pathetic smile that revealed an indescribable depth of misery. She ignored it expertly, her attention riveted to the stubble on his jaw, grown darker and thicker than it usually did.

She looked away and tightened her hold on the metallic keychain. "What are you doing here?" Instead of the angry tone she had aimed for, her voice came out strangled and shattered. She made no effort to fix it because Derek was leaving, and it didn't matter that he knew how badly she was bruised.

He came towards her thoughtlessly, blue eyes glistening with emotion. "You've been avoiding me at the hospital," he said, probing her eyes for the reason or at least a confirmation. She didn't satisfy his need for one, choosing instead to stare at a piece of lint stuck on his shoulder, and she heard him sigh, saw his hand rake through the riotous ebony curls on his head. "I'm leaving to New York tomorrow night. Today was my last day in Seattle Grace. It was as crazy as ever, and, God, Mer…" He shook his head and twisted his lips into an expression that resembled a grimace of regret. "I'm gonna miss it," he confessed, and she knew that this was him, giving her a small part of himself, telling her the little things that nobody could glimpse. And it didn't matter because Meredith didn't want the little things anymore. She wanted the big, like commitment and honesty and love.

She wanted everything he couldn't give her, so she looked him straight in the eyes, steeling herself against the vulnerable glint in his gaze, pretending that this didn't feel like rubbing salt in a fresh wound. "What do you want, Derek?" she asked resignedly.

"Meredith," he whispered, his breath falling intimately on her cheek when he bowed his head close to hers, his prickly cheek almost brushing against her soft one. Almost but not quite. It was breathtaking and plan-shattering, everything that made it impossible for her to act nonchalant, but she stood her ground, tempting fate to lock horns with her, throwing caution right into the wind. "Do you know how much it kills me to do this?"

His hands were warm where they shaped her face, his thumbs lazily stroking her cheekbones back and forth, lulling her. He cradled her, soothed her with a tenderness that made her feel protected, but she knew that the pain was only another breath or two away, that it would be unbearable because he broke down all of her carefully built defenses. Still, she was powerless to resist, and her fingers curled into the fuzzy material of his sweater beneath the black jacket, sending her keys to the gravel where they received the clumsy fall of her bag. "Then don't," she murmured, her eyes drifting over his tumultuous features, trying to read into his thunderous expression what she knew wasn't really there. She searched for it tirelessly, relishing in her need to touch him, to have his palms against her jaw, his face in her windblown hair. And the plea just slipped through her lips before she could stop it. "Don't go, Derek," she begged, twin tears tracing a wet path down her cheeks before they met the pads of his thumbs.

"I can't. It's not right."

With his hands still framing her face, he kissed her softly on the lips, his tongue nimbly collecting the salty droplets that rolled down to her mouth. Her fist landed hard against his chest, and he pulled away in surprise, catching her other fist easily before it connected with his shoulder. She wielded her arms, fighting him with all her worth, hating that he was stronger, that his chest was hard where her knuckles bit into it, that he effortlessly thwarted her physical outburst. "Stop it!" she shouted, heedless of her tears.

This provoked his anger. He held both her wrists still against his abdomen, his jaw tightening with outrage. "You're the one who's hitting me!"

She gave one last futile pathetic push before the struggle gracefully died out of her. "Stop it," she repeated when it didn't make sense to her anymore.

"Stop what?" he asked roughly, his voice hoarsening as he placed a hand beneath her chin, tipping it upwards, forcing her to face him.

"Stop making me love you." It was a broken whisper, desperate, poignant, and it made him do the unthinkable.

He crushed her against him, every part of him, molding her to the solid warmth of his body, burying his face in her hair. He hugged her hard, steady arms engulfing her frame tightly, unrelenting hands pushing into her sides. His lips moved against her ear in a rhythmic muffled plea that sounded at one point like _hold me_. It became a chant that drowned in the growing sounds of the sobs that shook her. Her tears smashed into the collar of his white shirt, and she couldn't stop it, any of it. She couldn't stop crying, and she couldn't stop hanging onto him. They embraced in the darkness, holding each other for a long time until her heart-wrenching cries became soft whimpers that melted into erratic breaths.

"We'll be okay," he said raucously, his arms loosening around her as he drew back to gaze at her face.

It was an empty promise, but she nodded with the naivety of a child. "We'll be okay," she echoed, her voice barely recognizable.

He balanced a wavering smile and took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. Derek studied the joint form of their intertwined fingers before he tugged her forward and placed a departing kiss on her lips. He did it twice. And then he was kissing her again, his thumb sliding up and down her finger, tracing her hand in a way that made her shiver. She couldn't rip herself free. When he released her captivated lips, she turned her cheek before he could kiss her again. The sigh of acquiescent disappointment that slid past his lips, curled across her chin, raising goose-bumps on the back of her neck. His forehead grazed the soft hair at her temple, and Meredith closed her eyes against the despair in his touch.

"I want you so much, it hurts."

----

George shifted slightly beneath her for fear of disturbing the pitiless way her stare was fixed on the immobile ceiling. She lifted her head from where it lay nestled in his lap and peered at his sympathetic face with red-rimmed eyes. The throw-pillows on her living room couch felt cold and unfamiliar against her side, and she wished that she never had to remember the stunned look on his face when she'd gotten in her car and recklessly sped away from him. Even as she vividly imagined erasing the past few hours of her life, she felt George gently brush her messy hair away from her face and knew that she had never been more grateful for him.

She'd spotted him sitting patiently on the townhouse's porch stairs, presumably waiting for Izzie to get off her shift, and he'd sprung to his feet the moment she'd stepped out of her jeep and stumbled on unsteady knees towards the front-door. He'd caught her, and all the anger that had been glaring back at her for weeks had disappeared. He was George, and he picked her up when all went awry.

Now, he reached for the bottle of water he had found by the couch and offered it to her. Meredith shook her head and let it fall back against his thigh listlessly.

"I begged him," she spoke for the first time, and her throat felt clogged. The words tasted acrid as they fell from her lips. "I begged him to stay."

His short nod and the mellow understanding in his half-hearted smile made her want to start crying all over again, but she was too tired for that.

"I let him kiss me and hold me. I listened to him tell me how this is killing him, like it's any easier for me to watch him hightailing it back to Manhattan with Addison. And my dog. He's taking my dog, George. I should be over it… him leaving that is. It's okay to cry over my dog because well he's my _dog_. Crying over Derek would just be wrong, but he made me cry in front of him. He made me tell him that I haven't stopped loving him. It was humiliating, and it hurt. It hurt so much."

"What did he say?" George asked quietly, interrupting the senseless ramble she had launched into.

She smiled sadly. "He said he wanted me. I give him undying confessions of love, and he wants me. Meredith Grey, sex fiend extraordinaire." She threw her hands up into the air in a sarcastic gesture joined by the frightening sound of her aggrieved giggle. Her chin trembled uncontrollably until he held it still.

"Don't say that, Mer. You know it's not true," he said soothingly.

"Isn't it?" The high-pitched squeak pulled his eyebrows into a concerned frown.

"Of course not. If Shephard doesn't realize what you're worth, then you're better off without him. If he can't see how wonderful you are, then that's his problem because we can see you. We know what you're like, and we'll fix you up until you can find someone who will treat you right. You hear me? We'll get you through this," he promised determinedly. His kind eyes bore into hers, seeking a confirmation, a signal of strength, but he didn't find it, and as he was about to further enforce his speech, the front door swung open, letting Izzie and a gust of wind into the townhouse.

Izzie paused at the door, golden hair in a careless bun, and studied the strange posture of their comfortable intimacy with eyes that betrayed a hint of relief. She didn't say anything as she kicked off her shoes and sat beside him, placing her head on his shoulder.

"What happened?" she whispered as if the silence that held them was sacred.

"Shephard," he muttered.

George's voice sounded resentful on her behalf, and she loved him for it. "George, can you move back in?" Meredith asked in a small voice.

In the edge of her vision, Izzie's lips stretched into a full-fledged smile. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, and smiled down at Meredith. "I was planning to."

----

Zachary Preston leaned back into his booth, glass of bourbon raised contemplatively to his lips, and studied the disheveled man across the table. There seemed to be a frown permanently attached to his brow, and he had skipped the morning's shave, leaving a dark shadow over the lower half of his face. The single malt scotch he gulped at a disquieting rate left him little time to talk, and he hadn't talked much for the last thirty minutes since Zack had arrived. He had mumbled words that sounded like greetings and pleasantries, but Zack got the distinct feeling that Derek wasn't in that bar for their preplanned meeting, that he probably would have ended up there anyway. And it made him wonder what it was that had the doctor so dismal. It wasn't like him to even get tipsy when they went out for drinks.

A waitress appeared with what he assumed was the seventh or eighth glass of his friend's beloved beverage and set it on the table, taking his empty cup back to the bar. Derek reached for it silently and downed a long swallow before lifting alcohol-glazed eyes and staring at him with an expression that he found difficulty placing. "How was it?" he asked in a soft drawl.

Zack cocked a brown eyebrow and sipped the last of his bourbon. "How was what?"

"Your date with Meredith," he said as though he should have known better than to ask, as though they had been discussing the feisty blond before Derek suddenly uttered her name.

He shrugged and rubbed the ring of condensation on the tabletop. "It wasn't really a date. We have this friends-thing going on, and you know I've never done that before. So…" With a brief shake to his head, he heaved a frustrated breath. "I kissed her." Zack prided himself on his exceptional ability to read people, and he understood Derek Shephard's staggered glare with an ease that filled him with dread. His head jerked upwards, stubbly chin thrust forward, shocked, angry and most of all downright jealous.

"You _kissed_ her?" he sputtered finally, and it was obvious that he was more than a little tipsy by the uncontrolled burst of inexcusable fury in his voice.

For the first time in his life, Zachary Preston prayed that he was wrong. He met Derek's eyes levelly, despising the situation they had somehow crawled into, that while their drinks had once held a toast for an everlasting friendship, they now nursed their sullenness over the same woman. And if Zack didn't harbor such a soft spot for Meredith Grey and her infectious rare smile, he would have never pushed his only true friend to the limit. "Is that a problem?"

"Problem? No, there isn't a problem. Why should there be a problem? You're friends and you kiss. I'm married," he ranted restlessly, not allowing his eyes to linger on one spot for longer than two seconds. And then he stopped talking, choosing to brood silently. Zack thought better of interrupting when Derek spoke again, his voice distant and odd. "I kissed her, too," he admitted with a wry smile, asserting that he was definitely not sober.

Zack breathed sharply, trying to decipher the jab he felt in his chest. This was their secret, the perfect explanation for every awkward moment, every stolen look. They were lovers, and it all made perfect sense, why Derek wanted to go to New York, why Addison was notably watchful when they were around each other. He swallowed forcefully, and he was taunted by the need to acquaint himself with the entire story, even if he had to get it out of a drunken Derek. "You kissed her," he repeated. "Why would you do that?"

"I can't help it." He signaled to the waitress who replaced his drink swiftly. "When she's there, I just want to be with her. Nobody understands it. I don't understand it, but she just gets to me. Everything about her gets to me."

Zack felt himself nod. "And what about her? She just let you kiss her?" he pried.

He dropped his head. "Yeah, she let me," he murmured pensively. "She loves me," he confided, but the whisper was meant more for his own ears than for Zack's. And it made his stomach clench.

Fishing into his pocket, he retrieved a couple of bills and dropped them on the table as he came to his feet. Derek followed suit, surprisingly still able to stand on his two feet and walk steadily. Zack glanced at him, his mind pulling together every piece of information their meeting unearthed.

"Come on, I'll drop you off. You shouldn't drive."

----

It was too freaking early.

That was her first thought when the doorbell rang for the third consecutive time in one minute. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head, wishing Izzie would get it, but it rang again, and it didn't sound like anyone was scampering across the hall. Kicking at the crisp sheets, she untangled her limbs and sat upright, blinking her drowsy eyes. Maybe it was an emergency.

"It better be an emergency," she grumbled to herself, sliding her feet into the pair of slippers at the foot of her bed. She threw a look over her shoulder, allowing the digital numbers to register in her mind before she trudged into the hallway, yawning sleepily. It was five in the morning, and she was supposed to wake up in twenty minutes to get ready for her shift. As she descended the stairs, the intruder knocked on the wooden part of the door, apparently getting impatient, but he stopped the moment she came into view.

His green eyes roamed her bed-mussed figure through the transparent glass, and she tried to hide her surprise at seeing him behind her door. Meredith pulled the door open and gaped at him.

"I didn't think you'd be sleeping. I mean I know it's five, but I thought doctors had to get up early, not _this_ early apparently." He rested his hand on the doorjamb, leaning heavily onto it, and the faint mauve shadows under his eyes were reason enough for her to believe that he hadn't gone to sleep yet, that he'd been wearing the same hunter green v-necked sweater and faded jeans last night. "Well, good morning," he said, smiling at her crookedly. She could see his rented car parked beside her jeep.

"Um, hi, Zack, it's kind of…" She stopped herself before saying _early_ because he obviously felt bad about it already. "I was supposed to wake up in another fifteen minutes anyway," she said reassuringly, stepping aside to let him in.

He brushed past her, striding hesitantly into the house. He stopped after a few long steps and swiveled to face her.

"What's going on?" she asked suspiciously.

Zack shifted his weight from foot to foot, testing each position, but he seemed displeased with both. He settled on an in-between and shifted his downcast eyes between her socked feet and his polished shoes. "Meredith," he began, lifting his chin to meet her confused frown. "Derek and I got to talking last night and…" he trailed off uncertainly.

There was a look in his clear eyes that she recognized, a breach, an inclination to wander into dangerous territory. She was suddenly taken by the need to mention lines, to bring tacit agreements to the light. She was blinded by panic, battling with the urge to flee the scene and become an observer instead of a participant, but she was there, standing right in front of him, feeling vulnerable in her pajamas and slippers.

Zack took her by the shoulders and crossed the line.

"Tell me about you and Derek."

* * *

So Derek is going to New York tomorrow (in story-time), and Zack is crossing lines. Meredith is obviously miserable, and there's no telling how she's going to feel about Derek letting the cat outta the bag! That's it for now. Your feedback is much-loved and appreciated and motivating.

Thank you for reading:)


	9. Chapter Nine: Goodbye To You

Disclaimer: I really don't own anything related to Grey's Anatomy. I do own the idea of this story, Zachary Preston, and Derek's made-up siblings.

Author's Note: I always wish I could update sooner because all of you are wonderfully supportive of this story. Thank you so much for your continued support, your amazing reviews that I will never tire of telling you how much I appreciate. So thanks again! And please do review, because it literally makes my day (my week even). Enjoy!

**Chapter Nine:** _Goodbye To You  
_"And it hurts to want everything  
And nothing at the same time.  
I want what's yours,  
And I want what's mine.  
I want you, but I'm not giving in this time.  
Goodbye to you."  
Goodbye To You – Michelle Branch

* * *

Meredith gaped at him in dumbfounded bewilderment, lips slightly parted, eyes wide, hands hanging uselessly at her sides. Like a deer caught in the blinding shine of headlights. They had plunged into the forbidden, headfirst, privacy forgotten. As he waited expectantly for an explanation to stumble out of her lips, she mourned the line they had crossed, wishing fiercely that they could step back into the relative safety on the other side. But his green eyes, tired as they were, suspended her with their adamant resolve, and his fingers were curled around her slim shoulders firmly enough to keep her from bolting.

She wondered briefly if he expected her to cower away, to physically turn around and race up the stairs.

"Meredith," he prodded tentatively, and she was vaguely aware of the gentle way he shook her. His eyes probed her face, demanding honesty.

"We're friends," she said on a quick short breath, catching the disbelief in his gaze before she chose to stare at his chest. The hands on her shoulders slumped with disappointment and fell back to his sides, allowing the cold air to chill the warm spots they had left. She hated hearing the lie that rolled easily off her tongue, hated the disillusionment flashing across his features. "It's complicated," she murmured after a pause. It wasn't a wise thing to say, but at least it wasn't a lie. There was no telling how much he knew, how much Derek had divulged.

"But how could… he's married!" he said with quiet urgency, rubbing his jaw roughly.

She wanted to be angry with him for thinking the worst of her, but the heat of Derek's kisses in Roseridge's parking lot still warmed her. And she was many things, but a hypocrite wasn't one of them. "I didn't know that at the time," she answered tonelessly.

Something changed in his eyes. They softened, and he reached for her hand, large fingers poised to hold her still, latching harmlessly onto her thin wrist. And there was something caressing about his touch, about the velvety way the jade in his eyes sparkled. Her throat went dry under his tender assessment, and she covered his hand with her own, silently removing it before she turned away and started walking towards the kitchen. It took several seconds for his footsteps to echo her own, a safe distance behind. She felt his looming form when they entered the kitchen. She didn't tell him to sit, but he did anyway, falling against the wooden back of his chair in relief. The button she compressed brought the coffee machine to life, and she faced him, crossing her arms defensively against her chest. "What?" she asked of the firm line that defined his lips.

He regarded her with unbending scrutiny for the length of a minute, his crossed arms mirroring her own, his feet splayed carelessly on the clean floor. "Is that why you keep running away from me?"

"I'm _not_ running away from you!" she sputtered, her voice dripping with indignation, and she saw his right eyebrow arch incredulously.

"Why won't you date me?" he challenged, smiling faintly at her discomfort.

"Because…" she started, and she avoided his confident stare. "You're bad news."

His chuckle was low and indulgent, and his eyes glittered with unconcealed amusement. "Actually, I make for very good ten o'clock news," he teased. "That's what Katie says anyway." Zack was still grinning at her, and he must have read the question in her eyes because he answered it promptly. "Katie's my secretary. Don't worry, I'm not married."

That put a damper on the mood, her mood at least. She was far from ready to start making jokes about it. She didn't think she'd ever be ready.

"It happened when he and Addison were separated," he said aloud, bringing it up again because even if he tried to deny it, Meredith could tell that he was ruffled by her involvement with Derek. His furrowed brow masked the frustration with which he spoke. "Then she came back and…"

"He chose her." _More than once_. The knife in her heart twisted just a little deeper, piercing her with an ache that felt new. And her voice gave away the bitterness that festered inside her, making his lips dip at the corners.

"And it ended." It was a statement, but he gave it the edge of a question that she refused to answer. Their eyes met and locked, his questioning, hers daring. The stubborn staring match ended with his quietly imparted declaration. "That's not what Derek said."

She was momentarily stunned, letting the high counter absorb her listless weight as she slumped against it. "What Derek said?" she queried softly, but part of her knew that whatever Derek had said was big. What he had said had left Zachary Preston ringing her doorbell just after dawn.

Zack's eyes were trained on her perceptively, the green irises shining with sleeplessness. "He said he kissed you last night. He said that you love him." The facts were ringing in the open long before she was prepared to hear them from him, and she kept on staring at him, gathering her wits, praying that she could thwart the accusations. "Is that true?"

And with her panic raged an anger that bubbled furiously and was directed solely at Derek. "I don't think it's your place to ask that. Not yet," she said with surprising calmness, her turbulent gaze not once wavering from his slouching form.

He straightened at the tone of her voice, but he didn't look surprised, only slightly injured, and maybe even a bit apologetic. She wasn't entirely sure because that initial reaction to her words was carefully cloaked beneath a taut smile that made his cheek twitch nervously.

The sudden burst of the door startled them both. Izzie padded into the kitchen on bare feet, casually, halting only when her heavy-lidded eyes fell on their morning visitor. He returned her disbelieving stare with a humorless grin.

"Good morning," he sounded pleasant and charming, despite the badly mussed brown hair on his head and the curiously wrinkled green sweater. He was usually impeccably dressed and groomed.

Izzie smiled at him uncomfortably, her dark eyes darting between him and Meredith comically, as though she sensed the awkward moment she had interrupted. "Good morning," she mumbled finally, walking straight to the coffee machine. It was already half-full, and without asking, she pulled a chipped ceramic mug from the over-head cupboard and filled it to the brim.

Meredith glared at her as she added sugar to the black coffee, but her eyes went back to Zack when he shuffled to unfurl his body from their kitchen chair and slowly came to his feet. She watched as he ran a hand through his soft hair, landing the other hand safely into the pocket of his denim pants. He caught her eyes long enough to convey that this wasn't over, and she wholeheartedly dreaded the continuation.

"I've got to get going. Meredith, I'm sorry for waking you. I'll call you later today. Have a nice day," he told them, flashing terse little smiles at their expectant faces before slipping out of the kitchen. The front door slammed after him, followed by the gentle drone of his car's motor and the screech of its tires as he sped away from the townhouse.

"Wow, you guys," Izzie muttered in amazement. "I mean, seriously, that's a sight to behold in the morning."

Meredith rolled her eyes and tucked a wayward lock of honey-blond hair behind her ear. "I really hope this didn't just happen," she said uneasily, pouring what was left of the scalding coffee into a mug that cheerfully told her to 'have a nice day'. It was a gift from an old college friend.

"What did happen?" Izzie asked curiously, throwing herself into the chair he had occupied.

"He asked me about Derek."

"Oh, wow."

"You already said that," she pointed out derisively. "He knows about us, about what happened last night. He knows everything."

"How did he find out?"

She clenched her jaw heatedly and sipped her coffee with a deep frown. "Derek told him."

"_Oh, wow!_"

----

"Well, Derek, what can I say? It's been a pleasure," Richard said with a tinge of remorse, still pumping his hand with a fervency that belied his aging face.

Derek felt a smile on his lips, and he let it stay despite the effort it took to hold it in place. "Likewise."

"Give Addie my best."

"I will," he promised, finally able to retrieve his hand, and he grinned, hoping the expression didn't as closely resemble a grimace as he thought it would. Turning on his heel, he took a couple of steps in the direction of the door, spearing a glance at the round clock hanging above it. He compared the time it told to that of his wristwatch unnecessarily. Five-forty into the Seattle afternoon. They would have to leave to the airport in a couple of hours.

He left the chief's office on quick feet that expertly worked around the customary rush in the hospital's corridor, but he wasn't moving as hastily as he usually did. He rather strolled, convincing himself that he hadn't come to the hospital just to catch one last glimpse of Meredith, that he had driven his car to Seattle Grace – without telling Addison – to check on the chief and Burke on his first day off the job. They were doing surprisingly well, and he felt a dreadful pang at the thought that he would slip out of these peoples' lives just as easily as he had slipped in. But he knew _she _wouldn't be the same without him, and he was selfishly glad, for which he hated himself.

As he passed the nurses' station, the elderly nurse who frequently helped him pressed his hand in a tearful goodbye, which he returned soothingly, patting the wrinkled hand that had fastened itself to his fingers. She removed it sadly and wished him the best of luck, muttering softly that he was a good man.

Derek had serious doubts about the description. A good man wouldn't have pulled Meredith into a supply closet and kissed her until they were both moaning with desire. A good man wouldn't have held her against a tree, thrusting his tongue into her mouth while his wife slept in his trailer a few yards away. A good man wouldn't have aimed for a repeat last night, kissing her over and over in the darkness, wishing desperately that he could exhaust the barriers and bury himself inside her. Mostly, a good man would have been happy for his friend, who had stumbled upon an amazing woman. It shouldn't matter that she happened to be the same amazing woman Derek ached to claim his own.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when a small slender hand caught his forearm from behind. He didn't have to turn to know who it belonged to. The tingles running down his back were enough proof, and he marveled at the delicious sensation that she unintentionally provoked. When he turned to her with an unconscious lazy smile flitting over his lips, he was met with a furious glare that only became more menacing as she ushered him into the empty stairwell. He resisted the urge to joke about her wanting to continue where they'd left off last night because she wasn't just irritated. In fact, he was pretty sure that if such a thing were possible, steam would be pouring out of her ears. He watched tight-lipped as she struggled to control her temper with an effort that cost her a bleeding lower lip. And he suddenly hoped she would stop worrying her lips, cursing himself for the wild craving to soothe the chipped moist skin with his tongue.

He raised his right hand to her face, but it barely made contact with her chin before she jerked her head away, leveling a ferocious glare at him. "Don't you dare," she hissed the warning hotly, stepping back to a safe distance.

He wasn't sure if she did it to keep him from touching her or to stop herself from striking at him. Either way, he scowled and gave her a confused look. "What's wrong?"

"What's…" She was incredulous, glaring at him as though he had grown a second head. "_You_ are an ass! That's what's wrong," she almost yelled, her cheeks flushing with restraint. "You had no right, absolutely _no right_," she stressed, "to tell Zack _anything_ about us. It is not your place to butt into my love life, much less cause me problems. And I've taken a lot from you, Derek. _A lot_! This is where it stops. I won't stand by and let you mess with my life, not anymore. So help me, God, if I…"

"Will you…" The anger her tirade inflamed in him matched hers full force, and Derek met her searing stare with chilling eyes.

"No, you listen to me," she interrupted, surging forward boldly and pointing her index finger at the center of his chest. "I don't care what you said to him. All I want is for you to stay out of my life because lately you have been nothing but a cocky jerk."

Her offensive finger jabbed his chest through the thick material of his dark sweater. His eyes fell to scrutinize it, and it dropped away under his stare. "Is that all?" he bit out, struggling to talk through the rigidity of his gritted jaw.

For the first time since he had seen her today, she looked uncertain, her resolve dwindling to reveal the purely feminine vulnerability that endeared her to him. And even if he was seething from the insults she had hurled at him, he wanted to tug her into his arms and hold her against him as tightly as he had last night.

"Why?" she asked suddenly, and he knew she had stepped on her pride to utter the single syllable that hung between them.

"I didn't mean to…" he let the explanation dangle unfinished as he thrust a frustrated hand into his hair. "I was drunk," he said softly. "And he kept pushing me, saying that he kissed you…"

"So what if he kissed me?" she snapped at him. "What's it to you, Derek?"

He didn't know what she wanted him to say, but by the cautious way she was looking at him, he could tell that there was _something_. What could he possibly tell her? That he unfairly wanted her to belong to him? That the image of her and Zack locking lips was enough to make him want to puke? That it felt positively insane to leave her behind? He settled for an impassive shrug. "Meredith," he sighed loudly, but the monotonous sound of her beeper filled the tense silence.

She checked it absently, her small body falling into motion out of habit. Her eyes were an emotionless cold gray when she lifted them to his face. "Take care of Doc," she said to him, and this was her goodbye. She pushed through the door hurriedly, slipping out of the stairwell, and he stared after her through the rectangular slit of glass, hating that she would leave things like that between them.

He cursed and shoved the swinging-door open.

----

Just as he had said he would be, Zack was waiting for her in the hospital's lobby when she finished her shift. He stood off to the side, tall and broad-shouldered in his blue sweater, chatting amiably with a bubbling nurse whose dark curly hair framed her beaming face. As she came closer to the pair, still unnoticed, she caught the flirtatious fluttering of the girl's eyelashes and muffled a smile.

"So it's true then about you and her." It was hard to miss the disappointment in her voice, but Meredith faltered to listen to his answer.

"I don't know about her, but it's true about me," he responded sheepishly, and she found herself impulsively placing her hand on his elbow, lifting herself on her tiptoes to brush her lips across his shaven cheek. "Hey," he said, pleasantly surprised by the rare display of affection.

The nurse, whose nametag read Anne, blushed childishly and ducked her head before excusing herself and slipping past them.

"Hi," she smiled up at him warmly, looping her arm through his as he led her through the hospital doors to his parked car. He ushered her into the passenger seat, climbing into the other side quickly. Inserting the key in the ignition, he paused and leaned back into the leather chair.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I was out of line," he apologized sincerely, and she had a feeling that he was man for whom apologies did not come easy.

"It's alright. I should've told you," she said seriously, picking on the hem of her red v-necked sweater.

He nodded shortly and turned the key, revving the engine to life.

"Where are we going?"

"The closest diner; I'm famished," he confessed with a bashful grin. He navigated the car with ease, casting a sideways glance at her profile as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Does this mean you're dating me?" he asked, but he was only half teasing.

She pressed her cheek to the cool glass, staring aimlessly at the rushing scenery. "Yeah, I guess so," she whispered, and she was plagued with guilt because there she was, sitting side-by-side with a wonderful man, who was not only handsome and successful but caring and fun, and all she could envision was Derek's wounded look when she had deserted him in the stairwell. She imagined airplanes that took him away and regretted having let her anger get in the way of telling him a proper goodbye. Instead, she had asked him to take care of their dog, not even bothering to wish him a nice trip or good luck or anything else that would have sounded just as insincere. She preferred seeing him everyday, even if he was happily married to Addison, to the other option, where he would cross the entire country. And she would never see him again, except maybe on rare occasions that happened once or twice a year. Maybe not.

She choked back tears, flexing her fingers instinctively when Zack's large hand closed over hers.

"That's good. That's really good," he said quietly, but it wasn't triumph that lighted his voice but acceptance because he knew. He knew that right now her heart belonged to someone else.

----

Three hours into the nine-hour flight, Derek stretched his neck and drummed the pads of his fingers on the arm of the first-class seat. It was almost midnight in Seattle, but he wasn't sleepy. He was pensive, toying with his thoughts restlessly, tortured by the notion of never setting foot again in the city where it rained – a lot. At his side, Addison, with her rimmed glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose, read a book, the title of which Derek kept forgetting. He felt her go still for a moment, folding the corner of the page to mark her progress before placing it in the pouch of the chair in front of her.

"Derek," she called him softly. "Are you awake?"

He considered letting her believe that he had fallen asleep because his eyes had been closed for the better part of the last thirty minutes, and apparently she hadn't seen his restless fingers. The thought was dismissed immediately. "Hmm?" he hummed, rolling his head so that he was facing her. He popped one eye open, staring at her through it.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked anxiously, and this really wasn't the Addison he had known and loved. The adultery and his actions had turned her into this meek creature.

He wished he could turn her back into the strong independent woman she had been, but he knew it was hopeless because even if she did resemble her old self, Derek didn't think he could love her again. "Just some stuff, nothing important," he lied, lifting the shade off the oval-shaped window. The sky was an inky black. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Addison said honestly. "Derek, what if we're doing the wrong thing? What if we'd both be happier if we went our separate ways?" she fired the questions at him uneasily, taking her glasses off and tucking them into her travel-purse.

He didn't want to tell her that the same thoughts had occurred to him at least ten times since they had boarded the plane, so he smiled, albeit falsely and leaned over the arms of their spacious chairs to press a kiss to her forehead. "We're trying, Addie. We owe it to ourselves and to our vows to try. That doesn't mean we can't decide that we're better off apart." She nodded at that, seemingly relieved, and he knew the feeling well because the tension in his shoulders relaxed considerably. And he was already thinking of what he would do when this farce was over. "Go to sleep," he urged, reaching for the panel over their heads and switching the white light off.

The people around them had already turned their lights off, so when theirs flicked off, they plunged into a peaceful darkness. He was surprised by the appearance of a few stars studded in the velvety sky, one of them racing down an arc. A shooting star. His lips twitched at the edges, rising slightly. And he closed his eyes, making a wish on a star, not because he believed in it, but for the sake of a memory. Then he resigned himself to thinking about Meredith because he had promised himself that it would be the last time he would consciously allow her to chase every other thought away.

He heard her laughter, sweet and seductive. He saw her eyes, sparkling with mischief or darkening with desire. And he remembered the way she felt in his arms, delicate and fragile, but holding him captive nevertheless.

"_You know, Jenny, all that stuff about shooting stars is not true," he disclosed in a secretive whisper, meeting his youngest sister's round eyes seriously. She stared at him for ten seconds, struggling to alter the belief she had clutched all nine years of her life before she burst out in tears. _

_Derek grimaced at the wails that tore from her throat, quietly slipping out of their living room as his elder sister came to the rescue, gathering Jenny into a warm embrace. _

_They tore into his bedroom twenty minutes later, freakishly alike with their light brown hair and baby blue eyes. _

"_Tell her you were lying," she demanded, daring him to refuse. _

_He dropped his head. "I was lying." _

"_Good." Jenny was grinning toothlessly. "And, Derek, one more thing, promise her you'll always wish on a shooting star." _

_He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I promise to always wish on a shooting star," he said solemnly. _

* * *

"And when the stars fall,  
I will lie awake.  
You're my shooting star."

* * *

I know the last bit is kind of weird (lyrics are from the same song), but the scene was just stuck in my head, and I wanted to give away the reason Derek wished on a star. So he's _finally_ gone to New York. And we can move forward. The next chapter I think will be a bit of a filler. And in the one after that, things will pick up. This is _still_ and will always be a MerDer fic. I'm a BIG fan! Even though I'm making Zack likeable… you know…

Anyway, as always your feedback (of any kind) is much appreciated and adored, so please don't hesitate.

Thanks for reading:)


	10. Chapter Ten: The Silence

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy. I don't own anything about this except the idea for this story and Zachary Preston.

Author's Note: I can't thank you all enough for your wonderful, wonderful amazing reviews! Thank you! Thank you! They really, really make my day. And I can't say how sorry I am that this chapter is a little late in coming. I wanted to post it sooner, but I didn't have access to my computer until today… so that's that. Anyway, this is sort of a filler chapter, and I'm _really_ glad it's finally done. Read on, and enjoy!

**Chapter Ten:** _The Silence  
_"Thinking back before her,  
I never knew the meaning of alone.  
Still the flag is feeling foreign,  
I live the day to escape into a phone,  
Speaking of a world not real then  
Where did she go?  
How did she go?  
I wanna know."  
Come On – Ben Jelen

* * *

**CONGRESSMAN DATES INTERN**

The assortment of grayscale candid photographs mocked her from the fourth page of a renowned tabloid. There were eight of them, most of which were quite innocent, moments from their romantic dinner caught on film, shared smiles, a casual twirl around the makeshift dance floor. There was a kiss, barely visible through the windshield of his car. Her face was a blur, and his large hand was on her cheek, covering most of it. She guessed they hadn't found a spot with better visual access.

"You are a living, breathing, walking, talking scandal," Cristina muttered, glancing at her as she continued to absently flick through the television channels. Her bare feet were lazily propped on the coffee table of the townhouse's living room.

"You make it sound like I'm some kind of doll," Meredith grumbled indignantly, glaring at the brief article that described the pictures. The black print inferred their relationship, attributing it to the week-long recovery Zachary Preston had spent within the walls of Seattle Grace. She was seen as just another one of the handsome bachelor's conquests.

…_It seems the interns in Seattle don't waste any time! _

"Ha!" Cristina was sniggering. "You wish." She rolled her neck, dragging her fingers through the tangle of black curls on her head. "Seriously though, gossip loves you. You're some sort of media whore that can't be left alone. But you do look good in one of the pictures," she said helpfully, leaning towards Meredith to peer over her shoulder in search of that one good photo. She was starting to point at it when the incensed blonde slapped her hand away. "Ow! You're violent."

"Cristina!" she cried in exasperation, finally slamming the newspaper onto the tabletop and letting her head drop into her waiting hands. "This can't be happening."

"Of course it's happening, even though this does feel kind of surreal. You and I are in your house, taking a day off, while Bambi and Martha Stewart wreck the hospital. Something's definitely wrong," she rambled, bringing her feet to the ground and reaching for the can of beer loitering next to a ceramic ashtray that overflowed with nutshells. She shook it impatiently, frowning when it turned out to be empty. "I'm avoiding Burke," she said quickly.

Meredith's bowed head snapped upwards, and she blinked at her several times. "Why? Why are you avoiding Burke?"

"Because my mother's in town, and he wants to have _dinner_ with her. Can you imagine that? Seriously, dinner with Burke and my mother. That's like my nightmare. Imagine if they get along. What am I saying? They're definitely going to get along. They have this…"

"Cristina," Meredith interrupted with a brittle smile, pushing her hair away from her eyes. "Will it be so horrible if they do get along?" she asked shrewdly, and the look in her eyes bluntly suggested hopefulness.

Cristina stared at her in silent wonder before speaking again. "Um, yes, it would be _horrible_. She's my mother. He's Burke. You're Meredith, and optimism," she trailed off, shaking her head with certainty. "It doesn't become you."

Meredith rolled her eyes in denial and stood up to stretch her limbs. "I'm just being reasonable. You, on the other hand, are being impossible," she admonished her, throwing a glance at the clock that sat over their television. Seven. Only twelve hours until her next shift. The time-off was thrust at them like an unwanted gift, and she hated it. She hated that during these long carefree hours she could actually think about things that weren't related to the hospital. She didn't have to worry about the patient in the room across the hall or feel a rush of exhilaration at an upcoming surgery. She rather had to be herself, outside the hospital, and she had to reflect on the past few months. She had to worry about herself and unconsciously dredge up old memories that were never far from the periphery of her mind. It was plain terrifying, and she hated it.

"So when's our favorite congressman coming back to Seattle?" Cristina queried, studying her curiously.

"In three days, supposedly," she replied, frowning at the thought that Zack was in D.C. on her day off. He'd been in and out of Seattle over the months more times than she could count, but she still wasn't used to his absence because when he was around, he was there all the time, teasing her about her grumpy morning attitude, planning romantic dinners that sometimes got cancelled because of one emergency or another, charming every female within hearing distance as he waited for her to finish her shift in the hospital lobby. He was good to her, fun, adoring, but there was still a mystery to him, dark streaks in his lighthearted demeanor. And she wasn't sure she wanted to go there with him, not yet anyway.

"Maybe _he_ could have dinner with my mother," Cristina suggested lamely, switching on the VCR to the images of Ellis Grey sliding her scalpel into a woman's abdomen.

Meredith laughed. His green eyes would twinkle in amusement if he were to see Cristina sitting there, brooding over the inevitable arrangement. She missed him, not terribly, but enough to wish he was there, even if he were to bring up Derek again. He'd only done that twice, interrogating her about her feelings for his friend in a cool detached demeanor that was belied by the burning glimmer in his eyes. And Meredith didn't lie to him. She offered curt answers that left him with enough knowledge to deduce that she wasn't over him but that she was working on it. She didn't know if it was better or worse that she hadn't seen or heard from said friend since that day in the stairwell. She didn't know if the acrid taste of remorse would fade with time, but it still felt as sharp on her tongue as it had the night he had traveled. "I need tequila," she said suddenly.

"McDreamy thoughts?" Cristina asked knowingly, tearing her eyes away from the gruesome scenes for a split-second.

"Don't call him that."

Cristina returned her piercing gaze to the screen, watching with rapt interest as the medical team rushed to revive the flat-lining woman on the table. "Whatever. Fine. McCoward. It suits him for running like a baby to New York. You'd think he'd have more balls than that," Cristina ranted thoughtlessly.

"Tequila," Meredith said firmly. "Definitely tequila. Want some?" she offered, starting towards the door adjoining the living room to the kitchen.

"Sure, if it'll make me numb enough to sit through an entire meal with Burke and the wicked witch of the west."

While she was retrieving the bottle from where she'd left it in the fridge, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get that," Cristina announced from the living room.

Meredith opened the overhead cupboard and brought down two shot glasses. Tucking the bottle under her arm, she clasped the two glasses and returned to the living room. As she set the glassware on the cluttered table, she wondered who was at the door. George and Izzie weren't due home for another couple of hours in the least.

She didn't have to consider it for long because a minute later, Cristina reentered the room with an exuberant Zack trailing behind her, grinning broadly and looking very pleased with himself.

"Zack!" she exclaimed, her delight evident in the smile that spread over her face.

He held his arms out at his sides. "Surprise?" he smirked cheekily, wrapping her in a warm hug when she stepped into his arms. He kissed her hair tenderly and moved back to brush a light kiss over her lips. "I went to the hospital, and they told me it's girls' night in," he teased.

Cristina shot him an incredulous look that Meredith caught in the corners of her eyes. "It's more like girls' pity party, join at your own risk," she said crossly.

He gave Meredith a puzzled frown, but his small, barely noticeable smile was full of amusement.

"Burke wants to have dinner with her mother," she explained in hushed whispers that erased any remnants of his frown to allow a full-fledged grin to blossom onto his face.

"I heard that," Cristina muttered from her place on the couch.

Zack shifted his gaze to her lounging form. "I wouldn't worry. Burke is more than presentable. Your mother will love him," he reassured her, his green eyes still dancing with mirth. And Meredith was glad he had come because he filled the void, not perfectly, but better than most.

"Exactly!" Cristina cried in frustration to which he offered a confused grimace. "Before the two of you get all mushy, I'm out of here." She slid her feet into a pair of leather shoes lying carelessly by the couch and straightened her knees, coming to her full height. "I'll see you tomorrow morning," she said to Meredith. "Bye!"

The front door quietly clicked shut, leaving a dense silence in its wake. Zack's arms left her as he shrugged off his brown suede jacket and draped it neatly on the back of the armchair. She followed his movements with her eyes, sensing the frigidity in them before he met her gaze with unusually nervous eyes. Returning to his spot in front of her, he placed his hands on the small of her back, pulling her towards him easily. "I'm sorry about the tabloid," he mumbled against her cheek, pecking her lips several times. "I should've been more careful, but…"

"It's okay," Meredith interrupted him with a soft smile. She smoothed her hands across his shoulders, over the fine cotton of his gray sweater.

Grinning slightly, he kissed her deeply. "I missed you," he breathed.

"Me too," she sighed, relaxing in his comfortable embrace, knowing that it was safe, that her world wasn't going to slip off its axis at the brush of his warm lips. Her breath wasn't stolen, and her knees didn't buckle. But it felt nice, the touch of a man who cared about her enough to make her home his harbor. It had grown to be the familiar, his scent, his sure caresses, his passionate kisses. It was all well-trodden and good, and it made her feel light, without a care in the world, until his lips feathered against her ear and she thought she heard him whisper something that sounded a lot like, "Marry me."

She pulled away suddenly, staring up into his expectant eyes, still the color of jade. "What?" she murmured.

He drew in a deep breath and smiled sheepishly. "Meredith, I know I've only known you for what? Six months? It doesn't matter. It shouldn't, anyway. I've never said this to anyone, but the thing is… Meredith, I love you, and I want to be with you today, tomorrow… and every other day for that matter. So, marry me," he requested softly, digging into his pocket for a small black velvet box that popped open in his hands, revealing a platinum ring that held two gleaming diamonds in an attractive fashion.

Her gaze drifted between his and the box in his hands before she wrapped her arms around his neck fiercely, hugging him tightly because _this_ was everything she'd ever wanted. Love. Commitment. Honesty. And he was giving it to her with a generosity that glowed warmly in him, even if he didn't complete her. She angled her body slightly away from his to kiss him earnestly before she said an enthusiastic, "Yes!" And he twirled her around happily, full of excitement and love and hope… that one day she would forget.

----

Derek walked into his two-bedroom condo and slammed the door shut, relishing the loud bang as it rattled against the polished wooden frame. He tossed his keys onto the foyer-table. They landed near the edge with a sharp jingle that he disregarded as he stepped into the dark kitchen, groping blindly along the wall for the light switch. He flicked it on absently, bathing the interior of the homey kitchen with a pale yellow glow before reaching for the refrigerator. His hand closed around a can of beer and brought it out of the fridge.

The blinking phone flashed irritably in the edge of his vision. Turning slightly, he hit a small silver button that triggered the automated voice of his answering machine.

"_You have two new messages." _

With the tip of his shoe, he pulled one of the kitchen chairs back by its leg and dropped onto it languidly. He sipped the chilled beer leisurely, only half-listening to the beep that preceded the first message.

"_Hey, Derek, it's Addison. The chief tells me you've been busy. I haven't seen you in the hospital in a couple of days."_ She expelled an annoyed breath that sounded scratchy on his machine. _"I know you probably won't come, but Mark wanted me to invite you to dinner again tonight. We're going to 21 at around ten-thirty. Remember when we used to go there, the three of us? Before all of… this, we were good friends, Derek. You and Mark were best friends. Anyway, I'll drop by your apartment tomorrow. Goodnight."_

Propping his elbow on the gleaming tabletop, he pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead, sliding four fingers into his rumpled hair and rotating his thumb over his throbbing temple. The dinner invitations had begun two months ago, and he hadn't gone to any one of them. He wondered when they would stop, if they would ever. He wondered why Mark insisted on regaining their friendship.

The chief of surgery's voice caught his wandering attention.

"_Doctor Shephard, it's Chief Williams. With all the trauma today, I couldn't get a hold of you in the hospital. Pass by my office tomorrow to confirm that you'll be attending the medical conference in Paris next week. Have a good day, doctor." _

Derek pushed his chair back and came to his feet, can of beer wrapped in his fist. He pushed the _delete_ button, and leaving the light on, he went to the living room, sinking into the worn black leather couch.

He dialed the number out of memory and held the phone against his ear, breathing in anticipation. It was ridiculous. They had become a ritual of sorts, these phone calls, and they made him feel closer.

"_Seattle Grace Hospital, Chief Webber's office, how can I help you?" _

"Hello, Patricia, it's Derek Shephard," he proclaimed on a short breath.

"_It's nice to hear from you, Doctor Shephard! I'll put you through in a moment." _

He took a swig of beer, rolling the liquid around his tongue before swallowing it.

"_Hello, Shep,"_ Richard greeted with an allusion of warmth.

"Chief Webber!" he exclaimed, fond of the pretense that this wasn't his third phone call to Seattle Grace that very same week. "How's everything going?"

"_Everything's still good."_ There was a sound of shuffling papers. _"How are things in Manhattan?" _

"Great," he lied, deciding to cut the chase just this once because his mentor sounded busy. "How is she?" Derek asked softly, and his heart beat a little faster when the other man released a heavy breath. The phone calls had started two weeks after he'd left Seattle. He'd called, asked about 'things', and then he'd asked about Bailey and her interns. That had given him away. Richard wasn't a stranger to the bizarre game. His answers always came with a reassurance that _she _– whose name they both didn't speak – was fine. And a reply like that was what Derek anticipated as he held his breath.

"_She's uh… engaged."_

The unexpected word knocked the breath out of him. His heart sank to his stomach slowly, and he had the strongest urge to empty the contents of his stomach. Swallowing past the dry lump in his throat, he coughed loudly and brought a hand to his spinning head. "En-engaged?" he choked out.

"_Derek…"_

"To Zack?" he persisted, ignoring the dull ache beginning to throb in his chest.

"_Yes, she and the congressman got engaged a couple of days ago. It's all um, very wonderful," _he said, sounding uncomfortable with the description of the arrangement, but Derek could tell that he was pleased for the woman he considered a daughter.

"Wonderful," he repeated numbly.

"_It is, well, you know. There's a medical conference in Paris next week,"_ Richard declared with an obvious attempt to change the awkward subject.

"I heard," he said quietly, his voice betraying disinterest.

"_Are you going?"_

He traced the rim of the metallic can with the pad of his index finger. Regret coursed through his veins painfully. "I think so."

"_I'm sending two residents, first-year and fifth-year, and an attending."_

"That's good," he commented inattentively, checking his wrist-watch. It was ten-thirty already. "Nice talking to you, chief. I've got to run," he said suddenly.

"_Alright, Derek, say hello to Addison. Goodnight."_

He shuffled out of the comfortable sofa, running both hands through his hair thoroughly to coax some life into the matted dark strands. Switching off all the lights, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

He could still make it in time for dinner.

----

"I love your ring," Izzie gushed with a beaming smile, leaning closer for a better look.

Meredith dropped the plastic fork and raised her hand to the light, tilting it until the clean diamond caught a few rays and proudly reflected them. "I love my ring," she agreed and smiled lightly before returning to her lunch. She stabbed two cuts of lettuce and brought them to her lips.

"I can't believe you're engaged to Zachary Preston," she sighed dreamily.

George gave her a mocking grin. "He's not a celebrity, Iz."

Izzie looked around the hospital cafeteria aimlessly before folding her hands on the round table where the remnants of her sandwich sat. "He is-_was_ one of the most eligible bachelors in the country," she said pointedly, clearly impressed with the fact. Another smile broke out on her face. "I can't wait to start planning the party!"

Meredith groaned at George's raised eyebrows. "I'm still not sure about the party," she mumbled.

"But Green Eyes wants a party," Cristina interjected with a sweet smile laden with sarcasm as she took the chair across the table from Meredith and went about peeling a banana. Her comment earned her a glower.

"So there's a party," Izzie concluded. "Seriously, Mer, show some excitement. It's your _engagement party_. And you're engaged to this gorgeous, amazingly successful guy, who is incredibly good to you…"

"Wow, Grey, your future hubby is making me look like crap," Alex half-grumbled, occupying the last free chair. He chewed monstrously on a Hershey's bar.

"You do look like crap," Cristina told him matter-of-factly.

"Don't start," George pleaded.

Alex rolled his eyes and offered the half-eaten chocolate bar to Izzie. She bit off a piece without taking it from his outstretched hand. "Okay, so I was saying, Mer, there will be a party," Izzie mumbled over a mouthful of chocolate.

Meredith sighed resignedly and closed the plastic container housing her green salad. "There probably will be a party, and it'll be all gowns and tuxedos," she said with a wince.

"Classy," Cristina said with a sardonic smirk.

"It's going to be great," Izzie insisted. "We should start preparing."

Meredith shook her head. "We'll start after I get back from Paris. I'm leaving in a couple of days."

"I still can't believe you get to go to that medical conference," Cristina griped.

"You're supposed to be happy for me," Meredith said dryly, giving her an incredulous look.

"I _am_ happy for you. That's the worst part."

George laughed quietly at the matching amused little smiles on Alex and Izzie's faces.

"Oh, shut up," Cristina hissed, checking her beeping pager. She jumped off her seat hastily, lunch forgotten. "Duty calls," she muttered, rushing off frantically.

Leaning back into his seat, George smiled broadly. "I can't believe we're finally residents."

And there was a collected murmur of agreement.

* * *

This chapter takes place around five months after Derek leaves to New York. He's obviously not very happy. And Meredith is just being Meredith, going a little into denial and jumping at the chance to finally write _him_ out of her life. Just in case anybody missed it, they're both going to Paris _together_! So next chapter, I'm promising MerDer interaction. And things will finally start to pick up as promised. This is _still_ an MD fic. I'm a big, big fan of Derek's "I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you forever." I literally melted.

Thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter Eleven: Melt Away

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm only borrowing them for a little while (play-time, I like to call it). Zack is mine. Well, not really, cause he's not remotely real... sadly.

Author's Note: I've officially declared myself most-horrible-person-of-the-year. So you're all wonderfully amazingly supportive (and I really mean wonderful wonderful wonderful) and it takes me ages (literally AGES) to give you this update, which I'm not even pleased with... which I promised I would edit but never got around to doing so because real life is keeping me pretty busy. If you're still reading, and I don't blame you if you're not, then here's the new chapter... FINALLY! Frankly, I don't like it very much. It didn't just flow out like most of the other chapters did. I worked on it a lot. I rewrote it a lot. And when I do that, things never come out the way I want them to. But that's for you to judge. Thank you so much to each and every one of you who reviewed on the last chapter. I really am sorry for the delay. Blame it on crazy assignments and exams and studying and that stuff... Enjoy!

**Chapter Eleven:** _Melt Away_  
"You come to me with a casual flow,  
And suddenly, my defenses start to go.  
When you talk to me in that sensual tone,  
It envelops me and I lose my self control.  
And baby, I just melt away"  
Melt Away – Mariah Carey

* * *

The private plane's engine droned softly in the buzz of chattering doctors as they flawlessly performed the timeless dance of those who _know_. Their faces bore an allusion of health and crooked little maps that told of a lifetime committed to the race of time and death. Meredith looked around distractedly, recognizing the familiar features that often painted the pages of Medicine Weekly, and wondered if she would ever become one of them, if several years down the line, she would find herself as part of the mass. It was her mother's crowd, her mother's dream, high-class surgeons milling about in a confined space.

It was her nightmare.

With a sigh, she dragged the off-white opaque cover over the oval-shaped window, effectively blocking out the glaring New York sun, and then dug into her huge shoulder bag in search of the outdated society magazine Izzie had thrust at her the night before, insisting that she would need it as a change from all the medical journals she had packed (with Cristina's helpful input). Triumphantly retrieving the colorful booklet, she slid her bag to the ground, opened the worn magazine to a random page, and frowned at a collection of photos taken at a charity ball. Reluctant to delve into the ridiculous editorial, she checked her wristwatch for the fifth time in two minutes, only to be distracted by the glittering diamond on her fourth finger. Her lips quirked in a faint smile, and she held her hand out to admire the impressive rock, her thoughts wandering to the man who had given her the ring.

_"Call me the minute you get there," Zack reminded her, lifting her patterned suitcase out of the blue jeep's trunk effortlessly._

_She smiled at him and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. "Zack, I heard you the first gazillion times you said that. I promise," she teased._

_"I know. I'm sorry," he muttered irritably, reaching for her hands and folding them in his. He held them tightly as if she were nothing but an illusion just about to disappear, and he smiled crookedly. "I just hate that you're going to be so far away. I wish I could've gone with you."_

_Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him quickly on the lips. "I wish you could've come, too." She chucked his dimpled chin fondly. "I have to go. I can't miss my flight."_

Leaving him behind as he watched her fading form, she couldn't help but think that he knew something she didn't. By the awkward smiles and impulsive hugs he gave her, Meredith was able to sense his discomfort but couldn't attribute it to anything. It wasn't like they hadn't been apart before. Over the course of their brief relationship, they were apart more often than they were together, so she didn't understand it. She didn't understand the insecurity that wavered in his brilliant green eyes or the overprotective insistence that she call him whenever she had a free moment. Despite her uneasiness, she'd slept through the worst of the turbulent flight from Seattle to New York, where a private jet was scheduled to fly the team of medical doctors to Paris. Much to her dismay, the few hours of sleep she'd gotten left her restless and wide-awake for the longer trip across the Atlantic.

"You're not going to sleep a wink," Bailey remarked impartially, dropping onto the cushioned seat beside hers. Her perceptive dark eyes gave Meredith's seated form a quick once-over.

She nodded halfheartedly and winced in regret. "I'll watch a movie or something," she said dismissively. "How's Tucker?" she asked, throwing a glance over Bailey's head at the dark man across the aisle. There was a small white pillow propped beneath his head, which was turned towards the window, hiding his face out of view.

"Sleeping like a baby," Bailey answered with a rare smile on her plump lips. "He's calling it our second honeymoon," she explained absently. "He loves Paris."

At that, Meredith felt her lips curve slightly in a ridiculously sappy grin that earned a deserving glare from Bailey. She wasn't intimidated by it, not after she had been privy to the intimacy of the stern, no-nonsense doctor's marital life. Not after she had seen that this incredibly fearsome woman was capable of tenderness. Watching Bailey with her husband made her want things that were offered to her on a silver platter. It made her cherish love and marriage and real affection between a man and a woman who shared their lives. And she felt lucky that Zack had filled some of the void in her life, knowing that some people weren't that fortunate.

"By the look on your face, Grey, you'd better be thinking about your fiancé," Bailey muttered, putting an end to her musings.

She turned her face towards the elder woman and smiled broadly. "I might be… thinking about my fiancé. He's wonderful isn't he?"

"I'm still your superior," Bailey warned, her threatening tone belied by the well-concealed humor in her eyes. But Meredith knew her well enough to recognize the jibe and shook her head in amusement, glancing briefly at the magazine in her lap before Bailey's soft, "Derek Shephard! Well, I'll be damned," snapped her gaze upwards.

Like a moth drawn to light, her eyes sought him out and clung to him, drinking him in like he was a beloved vision that didn't occur often enough. Disheveled ebony curls in orderly chaos were dusted with a new hint of silver at the temples, tapering to gorgeous sideburns, down to the rough stubble along the strong fix of his jaw. He was more beautiful than she remembered, more striking, and he took her breath away with his easy laughter and piercing eyes. And he was different. He looked like a renegade in his black collared sweater and a pair of casual jeans that ran the length of his legs, blending amazingly well with the image of the talented surgeon, only he could have passed for a movie star or a model or both.

"Grey, Grey," Bailey repeated, snapping her fingers before her face. "Wonderful fiancé," she reminded her wryly.

She opened her mouth to say something, but she just happened to look in his direction again when his indigo eyes lighted on her, sending her heart slamming into the pit of her stomach. And any inclination she'd had to speak died altogether. The smile on his handsome face perished in the blink of an eye, and he was visibly shaken, stunned into disbelief.

He said something she couldn't quite identify, his eyes, dark with an unreadable emotion, never leaving her face. And then he was walking towards her, his strides long and determined.

"Well, well, Doctor Shephard," Bailey greeted him with raised eyebrows, but he barely took a glimpse of her, his gaze fastened directly on Meredith, unwavering and penetrating all at once. "I see nothing has changed," she said in an unimpressed manner, cradling her chin in her palm to watch them.

"Doctor Bailey," Derek returned her acknowledgement with forced pleasantry. "Meredith," he added, his voice softer, her name rolling off his tongue in a breathless flourish. It held a whisper of a rasp that made her throat feel dry, and she really wished he would stop looking at her like that.

"Hi," she offered lamely, self-consciously shrinking into her seat.

He crammed his hands into the front pockets of his denim pants, a habit of embarrassment that she couldn't forget. "It's been a while." It was an unnecessary comment that he only said to fill the sudden, seemingly infinite void between them. "How's everyone back in Seattle? Burke, O'Malley, Stevens… I would've expected Yang to be in on this one," he said conversationally.

Meredith straightened in her chair and nervously fiddled with the curled corners of Izzie's magazine. "Oh, Cristina wanted in on this one, but Burke made sure she was out."

He lifted a black brow in curiosity, but she shook her head frivolously.

"Long story," she mumbled, stopping herself from making an inane gesture with her hand.

His dark head bobbed in understanding that the passage of time was hard to encompass. Sometimes things _were_ too late. "You're all residents now, right?" he queried.

"Yes, only since a couple of months ago," she elaborated, and there were dozens of questions that she wanted to ask him. But she couldn't bring herself to breach the barrier she had imposed because he was dangerous. He did unsettling things to her. He broke her down.

"That's good," Derek was saying, and she could see his gaze flit over her right hand, lingering on her engagement ring. And what he didn't say spoke louder than anything. His eyes told her all sorts of inappropriate things, and he wasn't wearing a ring. His bare finger mocked her. She forced an uneasy smile to claim her lips, admonishing herself for caring whether or not Derek Shephard was wearing his wedding ring. It didn't matter anymore. She was engaged to a wonderful man, _his_ friend. Of course, she didn't care that he wasn't wearing a ring, or that he was giving her _that_ look when Bailey saved her grace by saying something that she didn't even remotely understand for the persistent pounding of her heart.

When the throb in her ears drowned, she heard him asking Bailey, "Isn't that Tucker?" There was a strange note of hopefulness to his voice that didn't go unnoticed.

Bailey glowered at him and nodded curtly. "Both seats are taken, Shephard," she asserted in a warning tone.

He nodded much as a dejected child would, and it evoked a feeling of warmth in her. She resented the tall gray-haired attending from George Washington Hospital for claiming the seat next to hers while he was off socializing, but she knew that it, like everything else, was for the best. Steering clear of Derek Shephard and his disorienting presence was certainly for the best.

"Alright then," he mumbled awkwardly. "I'll see you, both… around," he said vaguely, turning and heading back in the direction he had come from. A brunette with almond-shaped dark eyes caught his arm, urging him to bend at the waist while she whispered something in his ear that drew an uncomfortable smile on his lips. She moved from the aisle seat to the window seat, inviting him into the newly emptied chair to which his lips formed a grateful _thank you_. He glanced at Meredith once more before settling in his seat, several rows in front of her.

She blew out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding and pulled a hand through her golden locks, tugging at the easy tangles twitchily.

"Grey," Bailey started uncomfortably, beginning to shuffle out of her seat.

"No, I'm fine. I'm over this. Really, I am. I'm engaged to be married. I'm happy. He means nothing to me. Derek. He means nothing to me," she asserted quietly, hastily flipping through a couple of pages in the magazine, one that boasted a new brand of tampons and another that encouraged the use of condoms. From the corners of her eyes, she peered at Bailey's dubious expression and shrugged in mock indifference. "What?"

"Nothing, you do whatever it is you're doing. And, Meredith…" she said softly, her dark eyes earnest.

Meredith raised tumultuous gray eyes to her kindly face, surprised by the sound of her first name on that voice. Swallowing tightly, she managed a short-lived nod.

"Be careful. A man with Derek Shephard's charm can tempt a saint to fall from grace."

With that, she slipped back to her seat, leaving Meredith to her thoughts and to the world that had suddenly slipped off its precariously balanced axis. The knots in her stomach eased as her lungs expanded in a deep breath. She pushed back into her chair, society magazine forgotten, and slammed her eyes shut, hoping against all hope that she was strong enough.

----

Derek took an impatient sip of the pink champagne that bubbled happily in the small plastic cup the plane offered. Craning his neck in the least awkward angle, he surreptitiously glanced backwards.

"You keep doing that. Is there something you want back there?" Sarah Wheeler asked mischievously. The underlying teasing in her lighthearted tone was something he was used to, and while it usually amused him, now it just bothered him. Her knowing dark eyes probed him curiously.

"You know who that guy is?" he asked, making a jerking motion with his head that indicated the man sitting beside Meredith.

She lifted herself slightly and peeked over his head, nodding affirmatively. "That's Neal Brown. He's an attending in George Washington Hospital. He's in ENT, otolaryngology," she described him sketchily, lifting her eyebrows at Derek.

"You're friends with him?"

"Very good friends. We worked together in Washington for the year I was there." She raised her own cup of pink champagne to her lips and took a long satisfying gulp, after which she licked her lips. "So you're trying to tell me that we've been on this plane for around four hours now, and you're glancing back because of Neal Brown?" Her voice was full of disbelief. In the cramped space between their seats, she stood under the pretense of straightening her skirt and threw another look in Neal Brown's direction. When she sat down again, she crossed her legs primly and grinned at him with the intimacy of someone who knew his every thought. "She's young and pretty," she observed flippantly. "And you're married."

"Sarah," he warned, narrowing his eyes at her. "Addison…"

"Slept with Mark Sloan," she interrupted. "Fine piece of man, and I would've expected it from any married woman, even the most loyal, except Addison because if there's one man who can outdo Mark…" she left her sentence unfinished and bent towards him, placing her index finger casually on his chest.

"We're fixing things," he bit out irritably, closing his hand over hers and gently removing it from his chest.

She pulled away stiffly. "You can send Neal over. Tell him I'd like to speak to him," Sarah suggested, her voice heavy with cold indifference.

He suppressed a smile of gratitude and nodded unhurriedly, straightening his aching knees.

"Derek," she said, placing a light hand on his wrist. "You were always better than her." The sincerity in her eyes was tangible. And he knew just as well as she did who "_her_" referred to.

He didn't acknowledge her admission as he stepped into the aisle and took the meager steps that left him by Neal Brown's seat. Seated beside the older man, Meredith had closed her eyes, but he could tell she wasn't sleeping because her slender fingers were dancing just barely to the melody coming from the earphones plugged in her ears. The white I-pod sat contentedly in her lap, making her seem all the more endearing. And he couldn't have stopped the smile that touched his lips.

"Excuse me, Doctor Brown?" he began politely.

The man looked up from the book on his lap and smiled. "Yes?"

"Hello, I'm Doctor Shephard," he introduced himself, stretching his hand out formally.

Neal shook it briefly. "You're in neuro, right?" At Derek's nod, he continued, "I've read articles about you. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," he lied, smiling falsely. "Doctor Wheeler sent me for you. She's sitting right over there," he said, pointing at the top of Sarah's auburn hair.

The man's brown eyes brightened, and he came to his feet promptly. "Alright, thank you," he mumbled enthusiastically, stepping past Derek and ambling down the aisle.

Swallowing his sudden nervousness at being virtually alone with Meredith, he sat down smoothly, relishing in his need to be close to her. God, she was still beautiful. He leaned over the armrest, bringing his face dangerously close to her hair, bracing his palm on the cushioned support, letting his fingers dangle just above her soft thigh. And he inhaled, deeply, filling his lungs with her scent, lavender and a hint of perfume that almost robbed him of his sanity.

Her eyes snapped open suddenly as if sensing his nearness, and, startled, she moved away, hitting her shoulder against the sealed window. "Derek!" she exclaimed in a hushed whisper, pulling the earphones out as she tensely licked her lips.

Regarding her closely, he sat back. "Hi," he murmured. "Uh, Neal is talking to Sarah," he explained, excusing his sudden appearance at her side.

"Oh, okay," she said slowly, and he could tell by the slight widening of her eyes that she didn't quite believe him. She managed to smile at him very faintly and thinly, and it struck him just how much he'd missed her, how much he'd missed having someone he could read effortlessly, someone who saw through him just as easily.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, surprising her into discomfiture.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she told him cautiously.

He hated that she was wary of him, knowing that she had every right to protect herself against him. He'd hurt her on more occasions than he could count, and saying he was sorry months later wasn't going to erase any of that. But he settled for it, having nothing better to offer. His eyes softened on her face, and he resisted the impulse to stroke her soft cheek. "There's a lot to be sorry for," he confessed quietly. "Congratulations."

Her head snapped upwards. "What?"

He steeled his gaze against her shimmering eyes and forced the words out of his mouth. "You're engaged. Congratulations."

"Yeah, thanks," she replied awkwardly, tucking a stray piece of honey-blond hair behind her ear.

Unable to stop himself, he raised his hand to the fragrant golden mane, fingering a soft wisp that teased the underside of her jaw, and he saw her bite her lip, fighting the urge to stop him. "Your hair," he said softly, the tips of his fingers following the straightened tresses. "It smells nice." And he wished he could stop acting like a grappling adolescent, wished he could sink his fingers in her soft, inviting hair and kiss her full dewy lips. "Lavender," he recalled.

"Lavender," she confirmed breathlessly, tilting her head so that his hand brushed against her chin. She gave into his touch albeit unconsciously, and his heart sang with joy as his knuckles lightly traced the line of her jaw. Her eyelashes fluttered before hesitantly falling to close her eyes, leaving golden crescents over her cheeks, and he came closer, his breath hot against her chin, uncurling his knuckles to outline the contours of her lips with his fingertips. His index finger paused at the corner of her mouth dipping into the line between her lips, eliciting a sigh.

"Meredith," he whispered, wanting her to open her eyes, and she did, but she wasn't looking at him the way he wanted her to. She looked rather horrified, and suddenly her small hand was on his shoulder, shoving him away roughly. The force of her inept push hardly modified their positions, but he backed away, sensing the turmoil of emotions raging through her. "Meredith," he began again, more calmly.

"Don't, Derek." The hand that was on his shoulder now hovered before his face, silencing any protest he wanted to make and reminding him of that night so long ago, sitting on a bench next to her house, reasoning with her while she was impossibly drunk. And he almost smiled. Almost, but she started talking again and she was rambling senselessly. "This is not fair, Derek. You can't keep appearing out of nowhere and acting all nice to me, pretending that the last time we saw each other, we were actually pleasant. That's not how I deal with things. I _can't_ deal with things like that. If you want us to be civil with each other, then stop touching me every time we're alone together because…"

"Because what?" he goaded, his eyes sparkling impishly at her inability to complete that particular sentence.

"Nothing!" she huffed, exasperated.

"Don't be like that, Meredith," he whispered persuasively.

"Stop that," she said firmly, making him frown. "This isn't like it was before. It's nothing like it was before. Maybe things haven't changed for you, but they're definitely different for me. Not only are you married..."

"I'm not…"

She ignored him expertly. "I'm engaged to your friend, for God's sake." She looked at him with the same gray eyes that haunted his every dream and wrapped her tiny fist around the i-pod on her leg. "Most importantly, Derek, I don't want you anymore."

He was momentarily taken aback, surprised by the actual physical pain in his heart. But then he smirked easily, covering her hand with his own and giving it a delicate squeeze. "You should try that again, maybe lift your chin a little higher… more eye contact. It'll become more convincing with practice," he said reassuringly, flashing a teasing grin her way.

She gaped at him disbelievingly. "Seriously? Seriously!"

"Doctor Shephard."

Saved by Neal Brown, he thought with a pleased smile, patting her hand before relinquishing his borrowed seat.

"I'll see you, Meredith," he promised.

----

The Charles De Gaulle airport was bustling in the Parisian evening as he stood in line waiting for his single bag to appear. Minutes ago, he'd watched Meredith with the help of Tucker, Bailey's husband, pull a couple of bags onto her cart and wheel them away. She'd disappeared, and he assumed she was well on her way to their hotel by now.

"You seem awfully happy," Bailey said from behind him.

He shrugged, not bothering to wipe the grin from his face. "We're in the city of romance, Doctor Bailey. Of course, I'm happy."

She shook her dark head and crossed her arms beneath her chest in a posture that was purely hers. "McDreamy, am I giving you the impression that I'm half interested in what you're saying?" she asked monotonously.

"No, no you're not. But," he said, shaking out his broad shoulders and sending a teasing wink her way, "it really doesn't matter. I'll talk anyway."

"Really," she drawled, apathy shining clearly in her eyes.

"Yes," he answered with a smile. "I'm giving myself a chance. That's what I'm doing. I deserve one last shot just as much as she does. I'm making things right this time."

"Or irreparably damaging them," she added thoughtfully.

He grimaced and slung the arm of his laptop case over his shoulder. "Or that."

* * *

That's pretty much it for the moment. Meredith is engaged and technically quite happy with what she's made of her life. She's back on her feet, and she's envied for the man who adores the ground she walks on (Zack). She's freaking engaged! And then Derek shows up, and suddenly the world isn't so perfect anymore because he's there and he's devestatingly handsome, even more so than she remembered, and he's talking to her like he did when they first met, playing the chase. And it scares her because she knows that if she lets go for just a minute, then bam he's in, and all that progress, everything she's proud of is gone.

I'm sorry if it disappoints. I'll try my best to have the next chapter out this weekend.

Thanks a ton for reading:)


	12. Chapter Twelve: You And I

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just playing around with them.

Author's Note: I'm updating! Five days after my last update! I'm proud of me. Seriously. Actually it's thanks to you guys and the wonderful things you had to say about the last chapter. Thank you so much. You guys blow me away. This chapter is a little shorter than usual. I'll try my best to update ASAP. Thanks a bunch for continuing to read this story! Enjoy!

**Chapter Twelve:** _You and I  
_"There you go again when you  
Rub up against my skin,  
I have to catch my breath.  
I begin to sweat.  
Lips tracing down my neck,  
And it's scaring me to death.  
How'd you learn to draw me to the cliff  
Just to push me off the edge?"  
Damn - Leann Rimes

* * *

Meredith flicked her eyes over the fist-sized imitation of the Eiffel tower where the bright yellow digits **20:05** blinked incessantly She bit lightly on the inside of her cheek before she turned to the vanity table, peering at her reflection in the gild-framed mirror, desperately trying to understand the heavy weight fluttering in her abdomen. She didn't look happy anymore. She didn't resemble the glowing bride-to-be Zack had safely delivered to the Seattle airport. Her lips were parted with vulnerability, her eyes wide, and she felt different.

God, how she felt different.

It had taken her two hours to decide on an outfit for the semi-formal dinner held in honor of the doctors' arrival. And now she surveyed the results of her expedition, vehemently denying to herself that imagining the appreciative look in Derek's indigo eyes was the real reason she'd put herself through the entire hassle. The gray flannel skirt was cut at mid-thigh, and the soft black wool shirt hung off her shoulders, baring an enticing view of warm skin. A pair of suede black boots hugged her lower legs up to her calves, completing the attire. It was simple and sexy, and it flattered her figure, highlighting her curves in all the right places.

Frowning at the mess that was her hotel room, she stepped over a pair of shoes cluttering the carpeted ground at the foot of the queen-size bed and fetched her phone from under a discarded cashmere sweater. She punched in the security code, finding that she'd missed a text message from Zack.

**ENJOY DINNER. CALL ME WHEN U GET BACK.**

With a sigh, she deleted it and slipped the phone into her purse, knowing that Bailey would be arriving anytime now. And she crushed the feelings of guilt that had been rioting through her ever since Derek had swept into her life again, mere hours ago.

"_So, who did you run into? Anyone you know?" Zack asked again, his voice cracking with false lightness. _

_She laughed a little as if conveying an absurdly silly coincidence. "Actually, Derek's here. I saw him on the plane," she said casually, holding her breath in anticipation of his outburst. _

_He surprised her by exhaling a long sigh into the mouthpiece, letting it echo sadly in her ear before he mumbled an incoherent, "Oh,". _

"_Zack, it's…"_

"_You don't have to give excuses for his being there. It's not your fault. I realize that. I don't necessarily like it, but I'll deal with it," he said evenly, his voice surprisingly calm. "Besides, I trust you," he asserted with more confidence in her than she believed was fitting. _

_She swallowed, blocking the memory of the little episode on the plane from her mind, dismissing it as a momentary lapse in judgment. Something that was never going to happen again. Ever. "Good," she muttered with a lot more resolve than she was feeling. "I'm glad." _

_The voices around him grew louder, and she heard Katie, his secretary, call his name. "I've got to go. I'll call you later, okay?" _

"_Okay."_

"_I love you." _

_Pausing, she opened her mouth, preparing to let the natural reply roll off her tongue, but her throat went dry and her thumb pushed into the red button, ending the phone call. _

Apparently, Zack trusted her, which was more than she could say for herself because Derek was _Derek_. He was too much, too sexy, too beautiful, too much for her to resist. And now she was all dressed up for him in clothes Zack had never seen, her washed hair straightened and glittering gold in the pale lamplight.

A light tap on the hotel room's door broke into her thoughts, and she pushed away from the mirror, firmly closing her mind against every hovering weakness his presence brought. Instead, she would fight to avoid the chilling intensity of his gaze and the mesmerizing seduction of his touch.

Clamping her hand over the knob, she turned it and pulled the door open, revealing Bailey's bored eyes.

"You done, Grey?" she asked, giving her a hasty once-over with her dark perceptive eyes.

Meredith looked away uncomfortably because if there was one person who saw through her where Derek was concerned, it was Bailey. "Yeah, done," she replied quietly, walking over to the bed and picking up the purse she'd left on the fluffy white comforter.

"Impressive," Bailey remarked offhandedly, leading the way to the elevator as Meredith stepped out of the room and followed her down the hallway.

"What's impressive?"

She shrugged. "Nothing."

She thought better of questioning that, choosing instead to monitor their progress as the elevator swiftly raced through the floors. The ride was brief and silent. When the fancy doors parted, Tucker was waiting for them on the other side, holding out his arm to escort his wife into the French-cuisine restaurant.

Meredith walked in behind them, her eyes drinking in the splendor of the brightly lit restaurant decorated in hues of red and gold. It was fairly bustling with the familiar faces from earlier, and it was half-encircled with a wide terrace that promised a picturesque view of the city lights.

Derek was nowhere to be seen.

She felt an inkling of disappointment as she slid into the cushioned chair beside Bailey, annoyed with herself because she'd actually searched for him. Reaching for the polished silver knife, she fiddled with it absently, flipping it against the delicate voile of the tablecloth. She wasn't supposed to feel like this. She wasn't supposed to be tempted to swirl into the web he seemed eager to weave. She wasn't supposed to _want_ to give in. But she did, and it scared her more than anything because she knew she deserved better. She had better, and Zack deserved nothing short of the absolute truth.

Dropping the knife suddenly, she pushed her chair back and came to her feet. When Bailey looked up at her questioningly, she made a meaningless gesture with her hand and plastered a fake smile onto her face.

"I'm just going to step out for a minute. I need some fresh air," she explained hastily, waving in the general direction of the grand balcony.

She swept past several tables en route to the terrace, slowing down only when she felt the evening chill perch on her naked shoulders. The velvety sky glowed with a half-moon surrounded by dozens of twinkling stars, so real and tangible they almost made her believe she could snatch one for herself. Edging towards the right, she clasped the cool metal of the gold-plated railing and stared down at the quaint city that hummed lightly to the ferocious radiance of thousands of colorful lights.

She was glad there was no one else out on the veranda because the cool breeze made her feel uninhibited, and the strange presence of another human being would have taken that away.

"I couldn't have chosen a better spot myself," came a deep familiar voice from behind her.

She whipped around, her heart thudding furiously against her ribcage, and he was right there, like a vision or a dream, standing straight, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his black dress pants. His ebony hair was as rich as she remembered it to be, and the black button-down shirt tucked at the waist was unbuttoned at the very top, hinting at a glimpse of the smooth flesh beneath it.

"Derek," she breathed, averting his sharp stare.

He smiled, flashing a perfect row of pearly teeth, and it rocked her because it wasn't cloaked with pretense. She could feel her resolve falter under the beauty of that smile. "It's really quite secluded," he continued, looking around the marble-tiled balcony. "I don't think anyone from inside can see you," he said, and his voice was full of disguised suggestion, his eyes shining with unconcealed desire when they returned to her face and slipped over her figure approvingly.

A chill raced down her spine, making her tremble reflexively. She took an instinctive step backwards until the railing bit into her lower back, and she was trapped, held captive by the raging fire in his gaze.

"Are you cold?"

Cold? God, no. She could never be cold when he was around. She'd never thought there existed a man who could make her feel so alive and vibrant and warm. "Yes," she lied simply.

He tilted his head to the side, regarding her closely, and removed his hands from his pockets to smooth his fingers over the back of his head. "Really?" he pressed.

Meredith ignored him and swiveled back to the Parisian night, marveling at its rare magnificence. It failed to capture her when she could feel him hovering at her back, coming closer until his body was pressed up against hers and his warmth seeped through her clothes, gliding over her skin. "What are you doing here?" she asked emotionlessly in a desperate attempt to drive away every inappropriate thought that shuddered through her.

For a moment, he didn't reply. His chest expanded against her back, his larger frame engulfing her as he bowed his dark head low over her shoulder, the hot expulsion of his regular breath caressing the curve of her neck. She closed her eyes and wrought her fingers tightly about the railing, her knuckles turning white with the effort. "I'm waiting," he whispered confidentially, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders.

She fought the moan about to slip through her lips when his thumb swept the sensitized skin, and his other hand slid caressingly from her shoulder down the length of her arm, finding her hand. "For what?" Her voice wavered, and she thought her knees would give away under her. She found herself leaning into him, bracing herself against the solid steady wall of his chest, reluctant to stop him, drowning in the endless abyss she'd promised to avoid.

And then his lips were on her neck, nuzzling and brushing, and every coherent thought fled from her mind. He traced a trail of wet kisses from the base of her neck to her jaw before placing his lips next to her ear, breathing softly. "For you to realize that you belong with me," he murmured, bringing her crashing back to reality.

She slipped through his arms and laughed slowly, without humor, the sound dying in her throat as abruptly as it began. He went still, his glazed eyes darting after her. "You're something else, you know that?" she said harshly with more anger in her voice than she cared to reveal.

She heard him sigh in frustration, felt his hand curve around her elbow, tugging at it gently, urging her to face him. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned with an affronted frown.

Raising her chin slightly, she met his deep blue eyes evenly. "What do you want from me, Derek?"

His eyes mellowed against hers, and he barely shook his head in something that resembled denial. "I don't… nothing," he promised earnestly. "I don't want anything from you," he said softly. "I want _you_."

"That's not fair," she mumbled, her anger dying at the sincerity in his face, and she dropped her head, staring intently at his expensive-looking leather shoes.

His index finger touched her chin, working to tilt it upwards, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Yes, yes it is. All that time, living in Manhattan, all I could think about was being in Seattle with you. I missed you. And I dreamed about you. Finding you on that plane was my chance, and I'm taking it. I'm giving us a second chance…"

"Derek…"

"Shut up," he interrupted softly, laying three fingers against her lips to silence her protest. He gave her a small smile that she recognized as reminiscent. "I say Meredith and you yell, remember? It's my turn now. Meredith, I want you in a way that I've never wanted anyone in my entire life. I want to be with you. I want to lie down next to you and kiss you and make love to you. I know that you don't want to give me a chance, that you can't give me a chance because you're engaged, and you're getting married. I do realize that you may be too far gone to ever want to come back or that you may not have feelings for me anymore. But if there's the slightest possibility that you'll change your mind, that you'll decide that what we had is worth saving, I'll be here." His hand fell back to his side as he ran a hand through his hair anxiously, searching the cold closed-off expression in her gray eyes.

She stared at him blankly, struggling to control every emotion that swelled inside her, and she looked away from the hopeful light in his eyes. "It's too late," she said bitterly, shouldering past him. "You're never going to change," she told him, quickly stepping through the French doors into the crowded restaurant, choking back a sob that threatened to escape her parted lips. She paused momentarily by her table, muttered something incomprehensible to Bailey and grabbed her purse before sweeping out of the restaurant, Derek hot on her trail.

----

He thrust his arm in the narrow space between the closing metallic doors, compelling them to open again. She was standing in the middle of the otherwise empty cubicle, avoiding his eyes, clutching her purse tightly under arm. And he could tell that she was battling with the urge to bolt.

With a tired sigh, Derek entered the elevator, glancing at the lighted up number she had chosen and filing it away in his memory. He stood beside her, staring at her through the corners of his eyes. "Meredith, listen to me," he pleaded as they began to move.

"There's nothing left to be said," she said tonelessly, her eyes glued to the digital display screen above the doors.

"Where are you going?" he tried tactfully.

"To sleep."

He charged forward angrily, pushed the _stop_ button and turned back to face her outraged gray eyes. "When I've done everything I can possibly do, I'll stop," he pledged, grabbing her arm when she made an anticipated move to set the elevator in motion. "No, you don't get to run away from me."

She grinned mockingly. "But you do."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry," he muttered, watching as she tried to step around him again. This time he held out his arm, catching her by the waist and pulling her against him.

She gasped as he pressed her closer, his hand moving slowly on her lower back. "It doesn't matter anymore. I don't _care_," she hissed furiously, wriggling to free herself of his grasp, but she only succeeded in making their position more suggestive.

"You're a very bad liar," he whispered, smirking at the incensed look in her eyes.

She gave up her struggle and stubbornly glared at his chin. "What do you want?"

"I want you to spend the day with me tomorrow." He brushed her hair back with his fingers, keeping his other arm firmly wrapped around her tiny waist.

"No!"

"I'll be at your door after the conference. Five o'clock. I rented a car, indulged actually in a brand new Porsche."

"I can't," she persisted, setting her lips in a stiff line.

"Sure you can." He trailed the back of his index finger down her cheek and tucked it under her chin as her hand came to rest gently on the inside of his elbow.

"I won't be there," she said, but she was out of breath.

"Then I'll just have to hunt you down, won't I?" Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, sipping sweetly at her full bottom lip, stroking it with his tongue just enough for her to part her lips timidly. The tip of her tongue met his inside her mouth, and she placed her free hand palm-down on his chest. Lust raced uncontrollably through his veins, so he forced himself to stop, releasing her lips regretfully. She wasn't looking at him as he half-turned towards the luminous panel and released the angry red _stop_ button.

He leaned against the wall at her side, watching the conflicting emotions flickering across her beautiful features. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and an elderly European couple went inside, the tall man pushing the button that spelled a large seven.

"Honeymoon?" the woman asked knowingly, shifting amused brown eyes between them.

Derek grinned when Meredith began to protest, "We're…"

"Yes, actually," he cut her off, catching her hand and tangling their fingers. She glowered at him visibly and pulled her fingers free of his.

"I can always tell," she said proudly, nudging the quiet man with her elbow. "Right, Luca?"

He nodded affirmatively and put his arm around her shoulders. "She can always tell," he confirmed, guiding her towards the parting doors. "Enjoy your stay!"

"You, too," Derek called back, chuckling softly when the elevator started again, taking them to the ninth floor.

"That was ridiculous," she snapped at him.

He shrugged. "I didn't want to disappoint her. She can always tell," he teased, imitating the man's heavy accent, relieved when a tiny smile worked its way onto her lips.

She hid it under the displeased scowl on her face.

"Tomorrow. Five o'clock."

She opened her mouth to argue when the doors opened on her floor. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he propelled her gently across the threshold of the elevator.

"Derek!" she exclaimed.

"I'll find you," he winked and pressed the _Door Close_ button, staring at her until the metallic barriers clamped shut.

This time he wasn't letting go that easily.

* * *

And that's that. For now.

So Derek's throwing himself out there, but he's still not saying what he _needs_ to say. She still doesn't know anything about the past six months of his life. She doesn't know if he's still married (come to think of it, you guys don't either grins). All she knows is that every time he's there, he's saying things and touching her and kissing her... and it's like "Zack who?". So the guilt hasn't really set in yet. She hasn't had the time to think about Zack because Derek is all-consuming, and no matter how much she's tempted to escape, she wants him just as much as he wants her. But she wants to be able to reason. She wants to choose what's best for her in the long run...

Til' next time. Thanks for reading and reviewing :)


	13. Chapter Thirteen: I Shall Believe

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I'm in no way related to Grey's Anatomy (except that I'm an avid fan!). Everything is owned by Shonda Rhimes and the ABC people... well that is, everything except Zachary Preston.

Author's Note: Wow, you guys! Thank you so much for all your reviews on the last chapter. It makes me incredibly happy and glad that you're reading this and enjoying it enough to drop by with a review :D! So thanks a lot to all of you who read and reviewed last chapter! Here's the next chapter. It's again on the longish side... I love the song excerpted at the beginning, and I think the entire thing applies... but still I chose this excerpt cause it's the most fitting. Most of the information about Paris in this chapter is from so all credit goes to theis staff. The song used towards the middle of the chapter is _You've Lost That Loving Feeling_ by the Righteous Brothers. Anyway, here it is. Please enjoy!

**Chapter Thirteen:** _I Shall Believe  
_"Open the door,  
And show me your face tonight.  
I know it's true; no one heals me like you.  
And you hold the key.  
Never again would I turn away from you.  
I'm so heavy tonight,  
But your love is alright.  
And I do believe."  
I Shall Believe - Sheryl Crowe

* * *

She could feel his eyes on her.

He'd walked into the conference room ten minutes late, his lips firmly set in a tense line that relaxed the moment his indigo eyes lighted on her. Shuffling quietly, with one hand wrapped around a Styrofoam cup and the other waving around a stack of papers, he'd found an unoccupied seat along the same row as hers, across the aisle, in the relatively small auditorium. It made it easy for her to furtively glance at him from beneath her lowered eyelids, watching as he greeted their colleagues with polite smiles that ended before they could reach his tired eyes and sipped the steaming beverage from a round opening at the top of the sealed cup.

His quirks were endearingly familiar. He slid down into the black cushioned chair and propped his elbow against the shared armrest. The fingers of his right hand, held in one unbroken line from thumb to forefinger, framed the side of his lean face, holding his head up. With an annoyed tug, he subtly loosened the dark blue Dior tie around his neck.

He listened attentively, occasionally straightening to jot down a thing or two that happened to catch his attention.

And he looked at her.

His clandestine gaze was fierce and burning with unspoken whispers that stroked her skin across the void of cool ventilated air.

She dared to meet it once, only to have her breath stolen right out of her lungs. Her heart paused, skipping a beat, as if to draw out the moment. The corner of his lips lifted in a faint barely noticeable smile of acknowledgement. She swiftly averted her gaze in cowardice and launched another futile attempt at focusing on what the speaker was saying. The monotonic drone meant nothing to her as her mind replayed their encounter the night before with intimate detail.

Meredith could still feel the warm pressure of his lips against hers, the talented stroke of his tongue that persuasively parted her pliant lips. She could still envision her world slowly slipping off its axis, coming to a brief halt that mirrored that of the suspended elevator. She remembered all too well how it had felt to be in his arms again after so long. It was safer, more bittersweet, and he still smelled like aftershave and showers with a seductive hint of cologne that clung to his skin.

Bailey's elbow was firm as it nudged her arm. "Grey, are you concentrating?" she whispered.

Meredith felt herself nod automatically, unaware of the disbelieving glance Bailey cast at her. Tightening her hold on the white sponsor clipboard they had given her at the entrance, she heaved a silent breath and held her pen poised over the recycled pink piece of paper.

----

Two hours and three different speakers later, the conference came to a close for the day with a promise to continue the following morning.

She suppressed a sigh of relief and indulged by glancing at Derek. He was consulting his silver Rolex and frowning slightly at the time when the woman from the airplane appeared at his side and kissed him casually on the cheek. He grinned at her and said something she couldn't quite make out to which the dark-haired doctor giggled unabashedly.

Meredith turned away quickly and followed Bailey up the steps of the modern hall. The carved sign at the intricate door proudly announced the room's name, _Amphitheatre Margaux_. She swept past it, ignoring the cheerful glowing lights. Side-by-side, she and Bailey crossed the fairly crowded lobby towards the elevators.

Bailey was looking at her knowingly as they walked into the empty elevator.

She fidgeted uncomfortably under the sharp intensity of that gaze, wringing her hands nervously against the strap of her tan purse. "What? I… we… Nothing is going on," she stammered, trying to look earnest.

"You're so damn stupid." The elder woman shook her head, leaving Meredith speechless and mildly insulted. "There's a common lunch in one of the restaurants downstairs," Bailey told her. "Are you going?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think so," she muttered pensively.

They got off on their floor, parting ways in a brief friendly acknowledgement that cost Meredith a taxing smile that felt strange on her lips. Digging the card-key out of her purse, she ran it through the scanner, pushing against the door tiredly. She heard a faint click of the lock latching into place before she slid her boots off, laying them carelessly against the foot of an oddly positioned chair. Still clad in her clothes she dropped onto the bed and closed her eyes in exhaustion. Thanks to Derek, she hadn't gotten much sleep last night.

Within moments, she was fast asleep.

----

She was rudely awakened by periodic insistent knocks on her door. Yawning sleepily, she sat up in the rumpled bed and blinked several times to adjust to the dim lighting of the shady room. Another pertinent knock pierced the silence, prompting her to stumble out of bed slowly, feeling with her bare feet under the bed for a pair of slippers. She gave up when her search returned empty and strode barefoot to the rattling door. Not bothering with the peephole, she flung the door open and glared at the intruder.

"Another ten seconds and I was breaking the door down," he said seriously, blue eyes warming with amusement as they traveled the length of her disheveled form.

She stared at him silently, her eyelids still heavy with sleep, and self-consciously reached up to straighten her messy blond hair.

"It's five," he explained, pointing at his watch distractedly. "Actually, it's five-ten. I was running a little late, important phone call from New York. Apparently, Mark killed my patient. But I'm here now, and you're here." His tone softened considerably, and he shifted slightly to lean against the doorjamb. He was wearing a dark v-necked sweater, the collar of the white button-up shirt beneath it open against the strong column of his throat.

"Derek…" she began uncomfortably, resisting the temptation to drown in the ocean of promises gleaming in his persistent gaze.

"You want to change?"

She gave him a weary look and pressed her side protectively against the wooden door. "I'm not coming," she asserted.

"Come on, Mer," he wheedled, cocking his head to the side and flashing a coaxing smile at her. "If only for old times' sake, come with me."

She didn't know how anyone could resist the persuasive stance in his indigo eyes or the alluring tilt of those lips. And Meredith knew people with more charisma than Derek Shepherd, but none of them had that particular effect on her. No one else could make her knees feel like jelly with the most casual of touches. Maybe it was because somewhere deep inside of her, she knew that she was his exception, his rebellion against every rule he had ever set for himself. Maybe because she could imagine him sitting in his luxurious Manhattan apartment, staring out at the skyline, dreaming about her because he wanted her _in a way that he'd never wanted anyone in his entire life_. He wanted to be with her, lie down next to her and kiss her and make love to her. And every one of these reasons should have sent her running fast in the opposite direction.

"Fine," she heard herself relent, wondering exactly what she had gotten herself into as his gaze smoldered with delight. "I just need to get dressed." She made a vague gesture with her hand to which he nodded.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" he asked innocently.

She looked at him skeptically. "No!"

"That's too bad. I can just imagine how tarnishing this could be for your reputation, not to mention mine. Everyone knows we have history," his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "With me standing at your door, there's no telling what people would start saying."

"And if they see me letting you in?" she challenged, raising her eyebrows incredulously.

He leaned forward as a slow smile spread across his stubbly face. "If you let me in, we might actually give them something to talk about," he teased.

She wasn't amused. Glowering at him angrily, she opened her mouth to deliver the biting retort off the tip of her tongue, but he quickly interrupted.

"I'm just teasing you, Meredith. Please let me in. If Bailey sees me here, she'll have my head. You have no idea how protective that woman is of you." He stared at her earnestly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he straightened his leaning frame. Strong fingers curved through the disarray of ebony curls along his temple.

Moving aside reluctantly, she motioned for him to come in, and he did confidently, brushing against her shoulder deliberately as he entered the modest room. She closed the door and rested her back against it as his gaze snappishly took in the partitioned room. His eyes lingered on the disheveled queen-sized bed, too large for one person alone, before traveling to the separate small imitation of a living room. There was a long comfortable maroon couch against the wall, complimented by two armchairs, all of which were directed towards a plasma screen television.

She pointedly disregarded his presence as she rummaged through the closet, searching for something to wear. She decided on a pair of black slacks and an ecru turtle neck along with black suede boots to keep her feet warm. Piling her clothes on one arm, she stepped into the bathroom and locked the door. His low chuckle was audible through the thin door.

When she emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, fully dressed and wearing a hint of touchup makeup, he was sitting on one of the armchairs, availing himself of one of her medical journals, the ankle of his right leg propped casually on the opposite knee. He looked up at her, and the magazine fell closed against his lap. His intense gaze sent tingles of consternation skimming over every inch of her skin.

From the look on his face, it was clear that there was a lot he didn't say as he stood up, replacing the journal on the seat of the armchair. "You didn't come to lunch," he said quietly. "I'm going to guess that you slept right through lunchtime." There was a fond smile on his handsome face that made her feel weak in the knees.

"I'm not hungry," she inserted quickly, but her stomach chose that particular moment to rumble in protest. Embarrassment climbed up her neck to give her cheeks a rosy bloom.

Derek grinned at her. "Well, seems like your stomach is," he said laughingly. Making his way to the door, he twisted the knob, holding it open for her. Meredith grabbed her coat and walked out into the hallway. He closed the door, and with a warm hand placed casually against the small of her back, led her towards the elevator.

"Where are we going?"

"Well first thing's first," he started, pushing the button for the lobby. "I'm taking you to a delicious restaurant I happen to know."

"Derek, you don't have to, really…"

"Shhh," he chided, turning to face her, oblivious to the other four people riding the elevator. He raised a hand to her face, pressing his index finger lightly against her parted lips. "Don't argue. I know I don't have to. I don't have to do anything. I _want_ to," he affirmed, and try as she might she couldn't tear her gaze away from the compelling glint in his eyes.

He was the first to break when the elevator doors parted, allowing her to step out before following her, his fingers caressing as he gently grasped her elbow.

They stepped out into the chilly Parisian afternoon, the fading sun splashing a rainbow of colors against the lavender sky. She was absorbed by the beauty of it when a rented black Porsche rolled into the driveway. A valet with _Sofitel Paris Bercy _threaded in gold across his chest slipped out of the driver's seat, leaving the door open for Derek, who pressed an unidentifiable bill in the young man's hand. Descending the last few steps, he let go of her arm to open the door for her.

She slid into the dark leather chair with care, taking in the spacious interior of the expensive car. He readjusted his seat, smiling at her with an emotion she couldn't quite define.

"Do you like it?" he asked with boyish enthusiasm.

"I love it," she responded truthfully.

He looked pleased as he steered the luxurious sports car into the light traffic. "I'm thinking of buying one when…" He stopped short, turned to glance at her and then shook his head as if to clear it of the thoughts running through his mind. She wondered about the unfinished ending to that sentence. "How does steak and wine sound?"

"Delicious."

"Good, because I know this place, ten minutes away from here, that serves the best steak I've ever had," he divulged proudly.

"You've been to Paris before?" Meredith asked, genuinely surprised.

"Bien sur. I've been here several times on consults, family vacations, personal vacations and the whatnot," he said casually. "The city is something else at night. I used to think it was unreal. It has to be my second favorite place in the world."

"What's your first?" she asked, smiling secretively at his amazed description.

He brought the sleek sports car to a gradual stop at a red light and turned his face to look at her. "Seattle."

----

Derek sipped what was left of his red wine and set his glass aside. Reaching across the table with his fork, he stabbed one of her uneaten French fries and crammed it into his mouth. She glared at him in mock anger, her nose wrinkling endearingly as her slender fingers danced lightly on the cool surface of her almost untouched drink. He assumed she wanted to be fully alert and sober around him for what was left of their evening.

"Did _you_ skip lunch, too?" she asked, furrowing her brow at him. She cut a neat square out of her well-done steak and brought it to her lips.

"No." He smirked and tried to steal another fry, but she playfully slapped his hand away. "I have a healthy appetite," he defended, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless," she muttered with an amused shake to her blond head.

He liked the lulled state of easy banter they had developed and fallen into. Throughout dinner, they had chatted animatedly about anything and everything, except things of actual momentum. He had avoided asking her about Zack and their engagement, and she hadn't mentioned Addison, hadn't even asked him why he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. Derek wanted desperately to tell her the truth but feared that crossing the thin line into unknown territory with her would put an early end to his second chance. And he wouldn't risk that for anything. Sitting with her, talking over a warm meal made him remember why it had been so difficult to leave her behind in the first place. She was Meredith, the girl with enough spunk and delicacy to kick him out after a one-night stand and blush while doing it. She laughed with him and grew astonishingly serious when the topic became interesting. Above all of that, she disagreed with him, allowing their little differences to spark fiery spats that often ended with a dismissive smile or…

_Not going there_, he thought firmly. "Finish up," he prodded.

"I'm almost done," she promised.

He ordered the bill, and the waiter assigned to their small round table-for-two presented it to him in a leather case that he discreetly slipped a bill into. By the time another waiter whisked it away from the white and red checkered tablecloth, she had finished and was washing up. When she returned a couple of minutes later, he held her coat up for her, helping her slip the white knee-length coat over her slim shoulders.

She snuggled into it, her small hands finding a safe haven in its deep pockets. "Thank you," she murmured contentedly, following him to the car.

"For what?"

"Lunch."

"You're welcome."

She didn't ask him where he was taking her as he sped from lane to lane. Her left hand fiddled with the controls of the radio, but she didn't decide on anything, choosing instead to listen to brief excerpts of modern songs.

"Here we are," he announced.

She looked up excitedly and stopped short, her lips forming a small 'o' of realization. Her whisper was full of wonder, "Is this…"

"The Champs-Élysées," he confirmed, allowing the car to stroll at an easy pace further into the broad avenue. On both sides, it was flanked with cinemas, theaters and quaint little cafés. "You know they built the main street in Bangkok to resemble this."

"It's beautiful," she muttered, her voice barely audible, gray eyes wide as they drank in the sights around them.

"It is," he agreed. "This," he pointed at a towering monument to the far left, "is the Arc de Triomphe."

"Wow," she let out on a short breath.

"I know. I felt the same way the first time I saw it up close and personal," he admitted with a sheepish smile.

He drove them out of the Champs-Élysées and passed by Notre Dame de Paris, pointing the anciently brilliant Gothic structure to her. She marveled at it, her exuberant enthusiasm contagious even though he had seen the magnificent building more times than he could count. And he related random tales to her of Napoleon Bonaparte and Joan of Arc and Charles de Gaulle. She was enraptured by the stories he weaved but teased him about it relentlessly as he took them to their final destination.

"You're full of trivia about Paris," she giggled enchantingly, the ringing sound akin to the tingles of silver bells.

Derek's grin was lopsided, and he shrugged his broad shoulders. "You were listening!"

"I was pretending to," she said, smirking at the disbelieving glance he directed at her.

"Ouch." He winced.

"I'm sorry," she laughed, turning one of the knobs on the advanced stereo system. The notes to a familiar song drifted from the speakers. When she reached out to change it, he stopped her.

"I like this song," he said simply.

_Now there's no welcome look_

_In your eyes when I reach for you_

_And now you're starting to criticize_

_Little things I do_

_It makes me just feel like crying_

_Cause baby, something beautiful is dying_

She raised one eyebrow dubiously. "Top Gun?"

"It's a good movie," he defended lamely.

"It is," she agreed with a humorous smile.

He began lip-syncing the playing song with a silly expression on his face. Meredith laughed at him, shaking him off when he teasingly reached for her hand and pressed it in his.

_Baby, baby, I'd get down on my knees for you_

_If you would only love me like you used to do_

_We had a love you don't find everyday_

_So don't let it slip away_

_Baby, I beg you please_

_I need…_

She turned it off. Shooting a puzzled look at her, he steered the car into an allotted parking space.

"I do like that song."

She blatantly ignored the wounded look on his face and twisted in her seat to peer out of the windows. "Where are…"

"The Eiffel Tower."

----

It had been past nine o'clock in the evening when they rode an elevator to the third and highest observation level of the Eiffel Tower. Much to Derek's amusement, she'd been bounding with anticipation, rushing out of the cubicle as soon as the doors were opened. She'd tried every viewing enhancement offered from panoramic to orientation tables that defined the late night Parisian skyline. He had hovered behind her, his warm breath ghosting over her cheek, melting the windy European chill. Before leaving, he'd insisted that she should send a special postcard to her mother, which she did grudgingly.

Now, she slowed down as they reached the door to her room, bringing the most wonderful evening of her life to a bittersweet end. She faced him hesitantly, leaning back against the door with a small smile. "I had a wonderful time," she began softly.

The smile that graced his handsome features was mellow. "Yeah, me, too," he replied, his voice just as quiet, just as lulling.

Without giving it much thought, she placed her hand on his hair-roughened jaw and kissed him on the cheek, letting her lips linger on the warm skin. "Thank you," she whispered, pulling back to stare at him.

He nodded in acknowledgement, making no move to leave, and she couldn't bring herself to slip into her room either. His steady lustrous gaze held her captivated until she heard the phone inside her room ring.

"I need to get that." She swiveled hastily, unlocked the door and swept into the room, leaving the door wide open. Sitting on the edge of the large couch, she picked up the receiver and brought it to her ear, aware of the slight tremble in her hands. "Hello?"

"_Hey, Mer, it's me." _It was Izzie.

"Hey Iz," she said, a note of relief to her voice. She was glad it wasn't Zack.

"_Where have you been? I've been trying to call you for hours but your phone says it's closed, and you won't pick up in your room."_

"Oh, crap, I must've forgotten to recharge the battery."

"_I really hate being the one to tell you this,"_ she began morbidly, and Meredith felt her heart constrict with fear. She knew that tone. _"Mer, your father, I mean Thatcher, he was hit by a car, and he has serious head trauma. They performed two crucial surgeries that he lived through, but he's still in a coma. Zack's been trying to reach you for hours," _she repeated finally, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur that barely registered in Meredith's mind.

Her head spun endlessly, stuck on a timeless carousel. She felt sick to her stomach, even as she heard the door to her hotel room close and Derek's weight shift the cushions of the burgundy sofa.

"_Mer?"_

"Meredith," Derek whispered worriedly.

She shook her head vigorously as if to reassure them that she was alright.

"_I'm really sorry,"_ Izzie said remorsefully.

"I… I'm fine. It's not your fault," she heard herself saying, the choked up sound spilling from her lips strange to her ears. "I have to go." She replaced the receiver on its cradle and slumped back into the couch, her thoughts painted with surprisingly vivid images of the father she had missed for the better part of her life.

"What happened?" Derek probed, his dark eyebrows sinking in a concerned frown.

Suddenly, she couldn't see through the blur of tears in her eyes. "My father was hit by a car. He's in a coma," she reported automatically right before a sob raked her fragile body, and she was pulled into the safe, warm comfort of Derek's arms.

He stroked her back soothingly and rocked her gently, his softly murmured phrases like a healing balm to the sobs that shook her. His fingers sifted lightly through her honey blond hair until her cries subsided, fading into sniffles that had his fingertips lightly tracing her spine. Meredith pulled away from him and met the stunned look in his eyes.

She placed her hand on his chest and tilted her chin upwards, bringing their faces closer, sharing his breath. With calm surrender, she trailed her fingers up his shoulders, around his neck and into his hair, where they curled around the rich thick strands.

And she kissed him.

* * *

That's that... for now at least.

She kissed him. You see, for the first time in a very long time, Meredith is actually the "assaulter" so to say. And _that_ in itself means something. It means that she just heard that the father she never knew could very well die at any moment, and that she's vulnerable... and that they had just spent what is deemed the most wonderful evening of her life. He took her out to lunch, drove her through the champs elysees, showed her things she had never dreamt of seeing... and then he took her to the Eiffel Tower. Now, he's comforting her, and the only thing she _can_ do is kiss him. So she went for it.

She kissed him.

Thanks for reading:)


	14. Chapter Fourteen: It's All Coming Back

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Shonda and the nice people over at ABC... well except for Zachary Preston.

Author's Note: As always, a big THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter. Thank you so much. You're all so kind and nice and wonderful! Here's the next chapter. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Read on and enjoy!

**In Chapter Thirteen:**

_She placed her hand on his chest and tilted her chin upwards, bringing their faces closer, sharing his breath. With calm surrender, she trailed her fingers up his shoulders, around his neck and into his hair, where they curled around the rich thick strands. _

_And she kissed him. _

**Chapter Fourteen: **_It's All Coming Back To Me Now  
_"If I kiss you like this,  
And if you whisper like that.  
It was lost long ago,  
But it's all coming back to me.  
If you want me like this,  
And if you need me like that.  
It was dead long ago,  
But it's all coming back to me.  
It's so hard to resist,  
And it's all coming back to me."  
It's All Coming Back To Me - Celine Dion

* * *

His first instinct was to respond.

Give and take.

Lips, soft against his, moved with slow deliberation like they had coasted dozens of receptive terrains. It was the precise kiss of a woman who had been kissed before, a woman who knew exactly what it would do to him when her tongue delicately breached the barrier of his teeth and deliberately stroked the roof of his mouth. A deep groan tore from his throat, and his idle hands came to life, skimming her back through the soft material of her winter sweater, pressing her dainty frame against him.

He wasn't really thinking at that point. He _couldn't_ think when her trimmed nails were raking the outline of his beard and her fingers were combing through his hair with wild abandon. He couldn't think when her tongue was boldly exploring the insides of his mouth and her hip was intimately digging into his thigh. The truth was that Derek Shephard didn't want to think. He wanted to feel the flesh of his fantasy and see once and for all if the reality of it - of her - could compare to the illusion.

Breathing heavily, she dragged her lips from his mouth across his jaw and down his neck in one sensuous fluid motion. And she rubbed his chest almost absently in a way that made him feel insane with desire. But her ragged breaths against his throat did more than just excite him. They snapped him back to reality.

Thatcher Grey was in a coma. He'd been hit by a car.

With more willpower than he knew he possessed, Derek regretfully grabbed her narrow shoulders and gently tugged her away to meet the confused, hurt look in her impossibly gray eyes. "Meredith," he rasped on a short breath. "We shouldn't. You're feeling vulnerable and sad, and I…" Giving her a remorseful look, he slid his hands down to her elbows, keeping his grip on them light. "I can't take advantage of that. God knows I'd love to… you have no idea…" he laughed and dropped his head to avoid seeing the wide-eyed stricken expression she was casting at him. "I wish…"

Her palm was warm and small against his face, but her touch as she softly raised his face was powerful. "Derek, shut up. You're not taking advantage." And it might have been wishful thinking, but he could swear he saw a travesty of a smile playing on the corners of her lips before she kissed him again, this time more forcefully, erasing any inclination he'd had to stop this. He gave into the fierce motions of her fiery kiss, relinquishing control until he felt her fingers expertly unbuckling his belt.

Never breaking the heated duel of their mating tongues, he edged himself slightly off the couch, pushing into her small frame easily, laying her against the maroon cushions, his body following hers. She didn't resist the significant alteration of their positions, gasping for breath when his lips finally released hers. He ran his lips over her soft cheek, delighting at her low moans of pleasure as he bathed the delicate inside of her ear with his tongue, stopping to lightly tug at her earlobe with his teeth. He pressed his lips to the spot below her ear, breathing against it heavily, feeling her shudder beneath him. The underside of her jaw was revered with small kisses that had her clutching desperately at his shoulders as he hooked his finger in the high collar of her turtleneck and bunched it downwards, availing himself of the fragrant milky white skin beneath it.

"God, you smell good," he breathed, agile fingers skillfully skimming her sides, pausing at the gentle slope of her breasts. And he felt her go still beneath him, felt her lungs collapse beneath his heaving chest. He buried his face against the exposed skin of her neck, rubbing and kissing and licking until she chanted his name like a forgotten prayer. His hand ghosted over her breast, and she thrust herself against it, silently beckoning him as her thigh shifted slightly between their interlocked bodies, coming against the evidence of his desire, hard and real. He teased her, his hand latching instead onto the hem of her sweater, urging her hotly to, "take it off."

She complied wordlessly, lifting herself enough to help him pull the sweater over her head, and she took it as her chance to get rid of his, tugging it over his torso and quickly peeling it away from his shoulders. Her fingers were deft and quick as they sketched the buttons of his white shirt, releasing them in record time. The delicious sensation of skin on skin robbed him of all reason. He was still for a moment, lying flush against her supple body, the only barrier being the flimsy material of her black bra. Moving leisurely, he pressed his lips to the soft lacy fabric and felt her fingers strum lightly against his sides, treading to his back, pulling him closer still. Nipping teeth finely drew the straps of her brassiere over her shoulders and with a flick of the wrist, the clasp went undone.

He pulled away when she wrenched beneath him, glancing at their intertwined legs to find that she had kicked her boots off. His shoes followed hers, and a minute later their pants joined the growing pile on the carpeted ground. He lavished every inch of exposed skin with unrivaled attention, worshipping with kisses and quiet murmurs that had her writhing beneath him in an enthralling blend of pleasure and frustration. Her breath was hot against his face as her lips stood poised beside his ear, parting to release a whisper that had him laughing quietly, indigo eyes sparkling with mischief. Her own eyes were darkened to an assuming shade of a stunning smoky color he couldn't quite define, clouded with lust, glittering with impatience. She raised one mocking eyebrow, her palm silky against the hair-roughened skin of his chest, and it slid lower, lower… lower. He growled with animalistic passion, laughter forgotten, his fingers fastening over hers, his chest bearing heavily down on her. Her laughter echoed his, slow, seductive, the laughter of a woman who knew what she had done, but as his head swooped down for another fierce, searing kiss, her breath was stolen, and she arched against him, begging for the sweet possession that would ease the ache in her womb.

The games, he knew, were over, and he pressed into her with savoring slowness, reawakened to the enchanting fit they made. Derek kissed her panting lips softly. "You're amazing," he whispered.

----

It was still dark outside when her eyes slowly fluttered open. The warm yellow glow that bathed the familiar hues of her hotel room came from the intricately designed bedside lamp. The light threw mute shadows over his night-roughened face as he gazed down at her, head supported on his propped elbow. He watched her absorbedly, and his hand lightly smoothed over her hip in a drugging motion that she had subconsciously fallen into.

"Hi." His voice was hoarse and quiet, welcomed by the dense silence. His dark hair was messy with trails left by her fingertips, and there was a small smile teasing the sensuous curve of his mouth.

"Hi," she answered softly, closing her eyes when he lowered his head to claim her lips in a sweet, short kiss. Placing her hand on the strong curve of his shoulder, she ran it lightly down the length of his arm, following the firm curve of his bicep. "How long have I been asleep?" she asked thoughtlessly, her eyes riveted to the broad expanse of his chest. Almost shyly, she brushed her lips against the base of his neck.

He chuckled and let her push him onto his back. "A couple of hours," he said with a dismissive shrug, and his free hand slid down her naked thigh, moving in slow circular motions across the sensitive skin. She watched his expression change from lethargic to lustful. His pupils dilated, and his breath grew noticeably shallow. "How're you feeling?"

Meredith felt a smirk tug at her lips and covered his wandering hand with her own, stilling it right before things got out of hand. Threading her fingers through his larger ones, she raised their locked hands to his side. "Satisfied," she divulged finally, her eyes twinkling into his. Her fingers traced his features tenderly, falling into the crinkles that framed the sides of his merry blue eyes as he laughed. She touched the silver hairs at his temples.

"Good," he decreed quietly, but the tilt of his chin was pensive. And his mood had turned just a little more somber as she slid her index finger down the side of his handsome face to the rigid fix of his jaw. She softened it with a knowing caress.

"I can barely remember the trip from the couch to the bed," she confessed, glancing in the direction of the mentioned piece of furniture. The couches were still arranged in the same domestic way, and their clothes sat in an undignified heap by the coffee table.

"You were rather…" he grinned boyishly, "occupied," he teased.

"I bet I was."

Derek captured her hand and kissed the center of her palm, murmuring softly, "There's a difference between relatively good and earth-shattering, right?"

Amused, she moved her head closer to his across the white pillow. "If you're talking about sex, then yes, I'd like to think so. In what category does _this_ fall?" she asked, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh this," he repeated slowly, pretending to deliberate over his assessment. "This was fairly mediocre," he said, and his face was set in a serious frown that turned into a teasing grin when her eyes widened in mock surprise.

"Mediocre," she echoed, a disbelieving smile claiming her lips. "Liar."

He placed a lingering kiss on the corner of her smiling lips. "A very good liar," he corrected.

"You're still a liar," she insisted, shaking her head at him.

"And you're still loud," he disclosed in a secretive whisper that made her jaw drop in stunned silence.

"Derek!" she protested, slapping the arm he draped around her waist.

He looked at her with innocent eyes. "What? It's true."

She felt her cheeks color with embarrassment, but the description reminded her of nights spent in her bedroom in Seattle's townhouse. And the dreadful memory of Seattle made her heart feel heavy. She tensed when he shifted onto his side and tugged her into the circle of his arms. "Derek," she whispered, and she knew he could tell she was panicking. "What have we…"

"Shhh," he muttered, his thumb touching her quivering lips. "Don't." Angling his head, he slanted his lips over hers, and his heavy frame pushed her deep into the soft mattress, erasing every other thought from her mind.

----

Golden rays from the Parisian sunlight were bouncing into the hotel room when Derek awoke to the shrill of an insistent alarm. He squinted against the morning glare and groped along the nightstand for the clock, effectively silencing it when his hand sent it crashing to the ground. Meredith moaned a protest and buried her face against his chest.

He ran a quick hand down her spine, stopping at the small of her back, lightly massaging the tender skin with his thumb. "'morning," he mumbled in her hair, assaulted by the delightful fragrance of lavender.

"What time is it?" she groaned.

"A little over an hour before the conference," he informed her with a grimace of his own. "Time for you to get up."

"Nooo," she pouted childishly, turning her face away from him to stuff it into her fragrant pillow.

He laughed at her and easily pulled her towards him. "Five seconds or I'm carrying you to the shower," he threatened.

"You wouldn't dare!" Her voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Five," Derek began. "Four… Three…"

"It's not working."

"Two…"

"I'm asleep."

"One… that's it." With that, he slid an arm between her warm body and the mattress and swiftly picked her up.

She gasped when the cool air hit her skin. "You didn't!" Glowering at him, she wriggled in his grasp as he walked towards the bathroom.

"I'd stop doing that if I were you," he warned her with a slow smirk. "You're gloriously naked, and it's…"

"Enough said," she said tersely, her feet gripping the ground when he set her in the shower. He almost stepped in with her when she planted her hand on his chest, pushing into his advancing form. "I don't think so."

"Come on, Mer, it's just a harmless shower," he tried convincingly.

Not fooled, she scoffed and drew the curtain shut, leaving him on the other side. "We're taking turns," she asserted firmly.

"Fine, I'll wait outside," he relented and left the bathroom with a displeased frown.

----

Meredith was dressed and busily blow-drying her hair when a knock resounded at the door. The shower was still running; Derek had been in there for a good fifteen minutes. She wondered what was taking him so long. Trudging across the worn carpets, she pulled the door open and came face-to-face with Miranda Bailey, who seemed just as grumpy as she had felt to be awakened so early.

"Good morning, Grey," she greeted her solemnly. Appraising eyes darted curiously around her room, pausing on the ridiculously rumpled bed. Meredith felt the urge to blush, feeling eternally grateful that the couch, being on the other side of the polished wooden door, was hidden out of view.

"Good morning, Doctor Bailey," she said in a rushed breathless voice.

If she heard the sound of the shower going off, Bailey made no apparent indication, except a gesture with her hand that clearly pointed towards the elevators. "You want to head down? Catch a cup of coffee before the conference. It starts in twenty minutes," she suggested amiably.

Meredith offered a wan smile in response. "I ah-I can't," she stuttered. "I have a couple of things I need to do before going to the conference," she rambled, but Bailey's eyes were narrowing on something that was transpiring in the background. "But thanks anyway for…"

"Mer, did you see my… Doctor Bailey!" Unmistakably Derek.

Meredith squeezed her eyes shut, silently praying that the ground would split in half and swallow her up whole. "Crap," she muttered, opening her eyes to Bailey's disbelieving stare that shifted at a disquieting rate between them. Throwing a cursory glance over her shoulder, she winced at Derek's towel-clad form. "I can explain," she promised in a rushed voice, but really she couldn't. Miranda Bailey didn't have to know that, neither did Derek for that matter.

Finally recovering from the initial shock of her discovery, Bailey took a small step backwards and nodded in an emotion that resembled disbelief. "I'm not interested," she said coldly.

"Miranda, please…"

"It's Doctor Bailey to you, and I'm still not interested." She turned on her heel then and swept down the hallway to the conveniently opening elevators, disappearing into one of the cubicles.

Meredith closed the door calmly and leaned against it, forehead pressed to the cool wood. She could hear him shuffling behind her, presumably sorting through his discarded clothes, and felt the wind sweep out of her chest as the solid metal of her engagement ring clanked against the door.

"_By the look on your face, Grey, you'd better be thinking about your fiancé," Bailey muttered, putting an end to her musings. _

_She turned her face towards the elder woman and smiled broadly. "I might be… thinking about my fiancé. He's wonderful isn't he?" _

When she turned around to face the chaotic madness of her hotel room, she found that it ironically mirrored her life. And she wanted to laugh bitterly as Derek pulled the sweater over his head and worked to straighten his collar. She had made a mess of things, just as she was prone to do. Meredith Grey had lived to fulfill the screw-up prophecy that quickly became the story of her life.

"You should go," she heard herself say in a cool detached demeanor that belied the tremor in her heart.

He stared back at her, confused by her sudden change in attitude, and he was Derek, the one man she loved unconditionally. He was the man she was capable of forgiving almost anything. And he was standing in the middle of the mess she had painted of her life, looking vulnerable for the first time ever since she'd met him. Her heart broke a little when he hesitantly surged forward, stopping right before her to wrap his hands around her wrists.

"Meredith," he said softly, gazing into her tearful eyes. "What does this mean?" She felt his thumb trace the round stone of her engagement ring.

"You should go," she repeated, her voice wobbling.

"Okay." He nodded vigorously and brushed his lips to her forehead soothingly before silently slipping through the door.

The silence he left behind enveloped her in a way that invited solitude. She felt lonely and bitter and furious with herself because the accusing look in Bailey's eyes precisely described the way she felt about what she'd done. She had cheated on a man who had been nothing but good to her. She had betrayed his trust. And she couldn't blame it on the fact that her father was near death because Thatcher Grey was the furthest thing from her mind when she'd helped Derek get rid of his sweater. _He_ had clarified his intentions from the start, warning her that he was out to win her back, to give them a second chance. He'd been nothing but honest, and she was cloaked with deceit.

The familiar melody of her ringtone had her rushing to the bedside where her flip-up phone was perched on the nightstand. Picking it up, she stared at Zack's name blinking against the screen and hesitated before accepting the call and bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, baby, how are you?"_ Zack asked, his concern evident.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"_You don't sound fine."_ Meredith heard the frown in his voice. _"Are you okay?"_

"I'm good."

"_I'm sorry about your father."_

"I'm sorry, too," she answered softly, sitting on the edge of the bed she and Derek had spent hours making love in. She fiddled with the sheets that still smelled of his distinct masculine scent and closed her eyes, imagining that he was still splendidly naked against the clean white covers, his back pressed against the carved wooden headboard.

"_I thought you'd want to see him, so I booked an early flight for you just in case. I'm sure Richard won't mind you missing the rest of the conference for this. Anyway, the plane leaves Paris at noon. Tell me if you want to take it. I'll confirm your reservation."_

She pondered the scenario for a breathless moment, imagining the hurt look in Derek's eyes when he would discover that she had left without as much as saying goodbye. And even if it killed her, she knew that this was for the best. Sighing resignedly, she said, "Thanks, Zack. I'll take it."

"_Great. I'll pick you up at the airport tonight."_

"Sounds good."

"_I love you."_

This time the red button that ended the long-distance call felt familiar under the pad of her thumb.

* * *

And that's that.

We left off last time with "she kissed him", she being the aggressor for the first time... and well we see where _that_ left them. They spent the entire night in what closely resembles a daze, from couch to bed to shower (where nothing happened!), and they weren't literally drunk, just in a sense "drunk" on the mood. I mean it's Paris, the city of romance and all things wonderful... and then she got the phone call about her father. And she wanted to feel close to someone, to share her pain. That's how it started anyway. Then it became about Derek, and everything he represents for her because she never got over him. Well that's an understatement. She's in love with him. That's the truth. Still, though, no matter how vulnerable he looks, he isn't offering much, and things are complicated because there's a Zack somewhere back in Seattle, who told her: _"Besides, I trust you."_ So much for that. So Meredith's freaking out, and she's following Derek's example. She's running.

How far she'll get...

'til next time!

Thanks for reading:)


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Running Away Into You

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, except Zachary Preston... and Sarah Wheeler!

Author's Note: As always, I'll begin this with a heart-felt thank you to all of you who are always kind enough to leave their reviews. I really really appreciate it. They're such a joy to read! So thanks again! Here's the next chapter... the title is actually from a song different from the one excerpted at the beginning. I just felt it was fitting... Anyway, read on and enjoy!

**Chapter Fifteen:** _Running Away Into You  
_"And all the roads we have to walk are winding.  
And all the lights that lead the way are blinding.  
There are many things that I would like to say to you,  
But I don't know how.  
I said maybe,  
You're gonna be the one that saves me.  
And after all,  
You're my wonderwall."  
Wonderwall - Oasis

* * *

"Thank God you're here," Meredith hissed, pulling the townhouse's glass door wide open. A gust of Seattle's chilly wind followed Cristina into the house, biting into her scantly dressed form. She rubbed her hands down her arms in an effort to ward off a shiver. "She's driving me crazy," she added, gray eyes worriedly glancing in the direction of the living room.

Cristina made a flair of tugging her black scarf loose as she walked into the foyer, pausing to take a dramatically deep breath. "Okay. Okay," she said slowly, giving the blond a meaningful stare. "I'll tell you how we'll do this. Scalpel suture. Surgical severance. Cold turkey. Get it?"

She nodded eagerly and led the way back into the cluttered living room. The long coffee table was cleared, save for three distinctly folded napkins set reverently in the middle. Izzie sat on the couch facing them, her brow wrinkled in concentration, right hand absently tapping a yellow pencil against her chin. A large colorful booklet was perched open in her lap.

"Hey, Cristina," she mumbled, never tearing her eyes away from the assortment. "What time is it?"

Cristina threw a brief reassuring glance in Meredith's direction before consulting her wristwatch. "Uh, it's two forty-five," she reported.

That spurred the tall blond into action. She jumped off the couch hastily, dropping the pencil and catalogue by the napkins, and brushed past them. "My shift starts in fifteen minutes," she called out after her footsteps could be heard pattering up the stairs.

Grinning, Cristina slipped out of her leather jacket and threw it carelessly against an armchair. "One down, one to go." She replaced Izzie on the couch and straightened to stare at the ridiculous objects. "What am I looking at?"

With a tired sigh, Meredith trudged from where she stood by the doorway to the couch and plopped down beside her. "Napkins for the engagement party," she grumbled, tucking her bare feet under her, and she hated that her voice was lacking all aspects of excitement. This was _her_ engagement party, yet Izzie was ten times more excited about it. The truth was that she'd been in a foul mood from the moment she'd thrown all of her belongings into her patterned suitcase and took the escape route back to Seattle. And she wanted to believe that what had taken place in that hotel room was nothing but a spur of the moment like comfort food or TV show marathons. She wanted to embroil herself in a web of denial until she could believe it, but she couldn't.

"I chose the one in the middle," Izzie said breathlessly, her head popping around the door frame, startling Meredith out of her thoughts. "Bye!" She waved at them and dashed to the door.

A moment later they heard the door slam, and Meredith released a breath of relief. "She's…"

"Crazy," Cristina finished for her and actively rolled the sleeves of her maroon sweater up to her elbows. "This napkin," she decided, pointing with certainty to the one on the right. It was a linen-like white cloth embroidered at the edges with a fine gold thread. "It says elegance. It says money, and it's pretty to look at."

Meredith gaped at her, wide-eyed with admiration. "Are you sure?" she prodded, relieved at the prospect of finally picking a napkin pattern.

"Of course I'm sure," she scoffed.

"But Izzie said…"

"We're doing this my way," Cristina asserted firmly, her hands closing over the thick pages of the discarded portfolio. She brought it to her lap and began to quickly flip through the pages. "I'm passing up possible surgeries for this," she muttered under her breath.

"But you're not on call," Meredith reminded her wryly, glancing over her shoulder at the cheerful designs, fighting the urge to wince at the pictures.

"When did that ever matter?"

She shrugged and gathered her tangled hair over one shoulder, fingering the strands distractedly. "I'm taking a day off for this. Imagine _that_," she sputtered sulkily, glaring at the pad of yellow papers dense with the black ink of Izzie's neat scrawl.

_- Call caterer again_

_- Make sure all invitations were sent out_

_- Double check with the hotel_

"You're marrying rich. Test his generosity. Ask him to hire someone to take care of this stuff. This tablecloth is fine," Cristina said quickly, folding the corner of the page to mark it. She drew a big check next to the design she chose.

"It's impossible to find someone to do this stuff when the party is in two days." Barely glancing at Cristina's choice for a tablecloth, she reached for her unfinished glass of orange juice and brought it to her lips, slurping the bitter liquid loudly. It made her feel obnoxious, and she relished in that feeling. It was a relief from the all-consuming guilt that ate at her.

"Whatever, at least you found a dress. Where's prince charming this time?" she asked, but her tone wasn't snide. She was being conversational when Meredith wanted her to be derisive, to jab into the precarious balance of their relationship. She wanted the chance to defend it, to list all the things that made him perfect for her because maybe hearing them would make it easier to close her eyes and kiss him soundly on the lips without having to imagine Derek's shimmering indigo eyes. But Cristina did no such thing. Instead, she returned the catalogue to the table and leaned back into the couch like someone content to have completed a hard day's work.

"New York," Meredith replied tonelessly. "His flight gets in tomorrow night."

"One night before the engagement gala. Spontaneous," she drawled sarcastically, hoisting her boot clad feet onto the empty edge of the table. The silence that ensued was comfortable and pensive until Cristina shattered it with a question that electrified the air, "So when are you going to tell me what happened in Paris?"

Meredith's heart went into a wild pattern of anonymous beats, pounding angrily in her ears. Her breath lodged in her throat, and she stared at the ground nervously. "What do you mean?" she stalled.

"I mean ever since you took that early flight back to Seattle five days ago, you've been different. You're always staring off into space, getting that freaky look in your eyes, avoiding your fiancé, not telling _me_ about it… so what happened?" she repeated, and Meredith could feel her dark eyes burning through her, possibly seeing past her transparent charade.

She swallowed tightly, wishing fiercely that she could protect it, their secret that wasn't so little anymore.

"Bailey got back today," Cristina said evenly.

"Yeah?" Meredith breathed, lifting guilty eyes to the other woman's face searchingly. Bailey wouldn't, would she?

"She said McDreamy was there," Cristina continued slowly, but it didn't seem like she had anything to add to that.

"I slept with him," she said on one long breath. Her body ached with the memory, and the confession felt heavy in the sudden stillness.

Cristina masked her stunned surprise with a frown. "You _slept_ with McDreamy in Paris?" she whispered disbelievingly. "You and McDreamy did the nasty-nasty in… where?"

"My hotel room," she murmured the response awkwardly and buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, so it wasn't you know accidental closet sex," Cristina reasoned contemplatively, earning an incensed glower. "Not accidental as in accidental… but you know, not just… how many times?"

"Once," she lied.

Cristina's dark eyebrows lifted over her eyes knowingly, and she shifted her feet, pushing one of the bundled napkins to the carpet. "You and Derek had sex in your hotel room _once_?" she mocked.

"Twice," Meredith mumbled. "Okay, three times."

"That's more like it."

"Cristina!"

"What were you thinking? You were _engaged_ for God's sake, Mer. Is he still married to the queen of all evil?" she fired the questions successively, staring at Meredith's down-turned head expectantly.

"I wasn't _thinking_. It was right after I got Izzie's phone call about my father, and he was there…"

"… being all McDreamy and the whatnot. What else is new?" Cristina drawled in a bored tone.

"I don't know if he's still married. I never asked him, but he wasn't wearing a ring." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and groaned.

"Well, that's just great. What did Derek say?"

"He said: 'Meredith, what does this mean?'"

"What _does_ it mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything," she said with a lot more certainty than she was feeling, but Cristina saw right through her. "I'm marrying Zack in a few months. We're having an engagement party the day after tomorrow. It doesn't mean anything."

Cristina's expression was unusually twisted with sympathy. "Did you tell Green Eyes?"

"Of course not."

"Are you going to tell him?" she egged on.

Meredith shook her head elaborately and wrung her hands, twisting the engagement ring around her finger twice. "I don't think so," she admitted softly.

"You should tell him. Building a marriage on a lie… not such a good idea," Cristina advised with a shake to her dark head.

Meredith bit her lower lip thoughtfully and brought her feet to the ground, digging her toes into the dusty fibers of the old carpet. "I can't tell him. He won't believe me if I tell him it didn't mean anything." In the corners of her eyes, she could make out the pointed look on Cristina's exasperated features.

"Do _you_ believe you?" she sighed.

"Cristina, please, no more mind games," she begged.

"I'm just saying, Mer. You never really told Zack that you're over Derek. Personally, I don't think you're over him. If you were, you wouldn't have jumped back into his arms the moment he offered you a shoulder to cry on. Maybe you should step back, think about things. Don't rush into a marriage to escape temptation. It wouldn't be fair to you or to Zack. Just, think it through."

It was a pearl of wisdom to hear, but her desperation was beyond accepting good advice. "I'm not putting my life on hold again for Derek," she stressed, shaking her head vehemently. "I can't give him anymore. I just can't. I'm marrying Zack. He loves me."

"And what about you? Do you love him?"

"Of-of course I do!" she stuttered, glaring at Cristina's critically raised eyebrow.

"Let me get this straight. You're marrying Zack who loves you. You claim to love him, but you managed to cheat on him with your ex-boyfriend, who also happens to be your fiancé's good friend," Cristina concluded with a dismal shrug, coming to her feet and reaching for her jacket. "I have to get back to the hospital," she announced, to which Meredith nodded unenthusiastically and rose from her sitting position.

They walked to the foyer together, Meredith trailing behind grouchily. She pressed the door firmly shut after Cristina mounted her bike, wondering how she was ever going to let Zack touch her again without imagining Derek and his persuasive kisses and elaborate caresses. She slammed her eyes shut against the invading visions and climbed the stairs slowly, her mind echoing with the huskiness of his whispers, her skin tingling with the remembrance of his touch. And she could see the expression of profound hurt in Zack's eyes the night he'd brought her home from the airport.

"_Come here," Zack whispered, the dim light of her bedside lamp burning brightly in his green eyes. His arms were warm and secure when she stepped into them and cautiously placed her cheek on his shoulder. "Everything is going to be alright," he promised, pulling back to look into her eyes. He caressed her cheek with his knuckles before leaning down to catch her lips in a comforting kiss. But she couldn't. _

_Meredith turned her head away, and his lips landed on her cheek, leaving a messy trail in their wake. "I can't," she murmured and disentangled herself from his embrace._

----

"Derek Shephard! Well, isn't this a coincidence!"

Derek looked up from the sports' section of the newspaper to find none other than Zachary Preston smiling at him broadly. He laughed at the other man's jovial expression and set the broad gray sheet aside, coming to his feet to eagerly pump his outstretched hand in greeting. "Zack! I didn't know you were in New York!"

Zack shrugged and looked at the ticket clutched in his left hand. "I've only been here for a couple of days on business," he explained dismissively. "Look at that. My seat is this one," he said, pointing at the empty first-class leather chair beside Derek's.

"Fate is a funny thing," Derek grinned, but he wasn't all that amused, especially when he remembered with vivid clarity everything he had done to Zachary Preston's fiancée, everything she had done to him… he cleared his throat and slipped back into his seat. Fate was just cruel.

"So what are you doing on a plane headed to Seattle?" Zack asked suspiciously, furrowing his broad brow in question. He looked away momentarily to put his briefcase in the overhead compartment.

"I'm going back to Seattle," he announced confidently, retrieving his discarded newspaper and folding it neatly down the middle.

"Really?" Zack muttered, slumping into his chair lifelessly. "What about Addison?" he asked hopefully.

Derek felt a smile pull at his lips. "The divorce was finalized yesterday." And there was nothing bittersweet about it. They'd talked it through, split everything in equal halves and parted ways with a smile on each of their faces. Then they'd gone out to a farewell dinner at _21_, with Mark. He knew the wounds were no longer fresh, but they'd left scars, and it was still hard to look into the eyes of a man he had trusted implicitly and not imagine the deceit. But Derek was working on it because he had let Addison go, and she deserved to be happy even if it was with Mark.

_Mark watched Addison walk to the restrooms with enchanted eyes. When he turned back to face him, the remnants of his smile still tilted his lips at an uneven angle. "So Seattle tomorrow night, huh?" he asked lightly. _

"_Yeah, well, my last chance at happiness," Derek answered solemnly, gulping the rest of the incredible wine. _

"_Good luck with Meredith. I hope things work out for the two of you, and Derek… you know that if you need anything, ever, I'm here," he affirmed with conviction. _

_Derek nodded and offered a small terse smile. "Thanks, man," he muttered. _

"I see," Zack was saying, a displeased scowl narrowing his sharp green eyes to horizontal slits. "So it's finally over between you two," he prodded.

"Yes, she's with Mark now."

"Ouch," Zack grimaced, and secured his seatbelt when the announcer's voice came over the speaker.

Derek followed suit and shrugged a little. "No not really. It's fine. I've come to terms with it all," he rationalized.

"That's good." He cleared his throat uncomfortably and loosened the top button of his cream-colored shirt. "Seeing as you'll be in Seattle, you should come to my engagement party tomorrow night. We're having it at the Marriott. I'm sure everyone would love to see you."

Derek expertly ignored the pang in his chest. She had jilted him in Paris to get back to Seattle and plan an enormous engagement party. "I would love that," he smiled, albeit falsely and battled with the consuming desire to tell him about Paris. "So you and Meredith, huh?" Derek found himself asking.

A grin of proud joy lit Zachary Preston's bright face. "Yeah, she's amazing, isn't she?"

"She is," Derek agreed softly.

"I never imagined I'd be ready to settle down so soon. When I met her, I was still out there, still playing the field for the next intriguing woman. Attachments were out of the question." He released a long wistful breath. "I'm a changed man."

"I can see that."

----

They'd spent the rest of the flight chatting amiably about their respective careers and mutual friends. Derek had avoided asking anything else about Meredith, not wanting to hear his friend sing her praises. It felt bad enough as it was.

"You have a ride and a place to stay, Shep?" Zack asked him as he lifted his bag from one of the rotating belts.

"I'm taking a cab, and I still have my trailer," he muttered, reaching for his suitcase. He pulled out its black handle and rolled it away from the overcrowded queue. Side-by-side in comfortable silence, they walked towards the airport's entrance, and they were both startled by an exuberant woman's loud cry of, "Derek Shephard!"

Derek's head snapped in the direction of that voice, and he suppressed a groan. "Sarah," he greeted with little enthusiasm. Throwing her arms around him, she squeezed his neck in an affectionate brief hug and kissed him noisily on the cheek. Zack's amused grin twinkled in his obscured line of vision. He gently set her away from him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pick you up, silly," she pretended to scold him and slapped his arm.

"Obviously," Zack intervened with a chuckle, drawing her glittering dark eyes to his towering form.

She smiled at him cheekily. "You've always been rude, Derek. Hi, I'm Sarah Wheeler," she introduced herself, sticking her hand out at the other man.

Zack shook it heartily. "Zachary Preston. It's a pleasure to meet you," he intoned.

"Zachary Preston as in congressman Zachary Preston," she realized, her eyes lighting up with genuine delight. She'd always loved meeting famous people. Derek plastered a smile onto his face, seriously considering slipping away unnoticed.

Zack coughed in embarrassment. "Yes, _that_ Zachary Preston," he confirmed.

"It's nice to finally meet you! So the two of you just met on the plane?" she asked curiously, her gaze drifting between them.

"No, actually, we've been friends for years," Derek said.

"Since high school, partners in crime," Zack added with a reminiscent grin.

"That must have been some coincidence then."

Derek chuckled dryly, watching as Zack looked at the rotating glass doors, his eyes lighting up. "You have no idea."

"My ride's here," Zack stated. "I have to get going. Ms. Wheeler, again, it was nice meeting you. And, Derek, I'll see you tomorrow night. Bring a date," he alluded with a subtle wink before rushing towards the doors.

Derek stared after him, searching the crowd for _her_ familiar willowy figure, unaware that his companion's gaze had followed the congressman as well.

"Wow, he's hot," Sarah whistled appreciatively when he was out of hearing distance.

Meredith finally emerged from a sea of travelers, and Zack pulled her into a tight hug that she submissively leaned into. And then he kissed her, right there, in the middle of Seattle's bustling airport, for the whole world to see. Derek felt his jaw clench reflexively.

"And he's peeing all over your territory."

* * *

And that's that...

For this chapter anyway.

So Derek's back in Seattle... for good. And he's been invited to Meredith and Zack's engagement party... if he _does_ show up... let's just say, things will get a little messy for Meredith, who is obviously suffering a major case of denial. She's running scared of the intensity of everything that happened in her hotel room less than a week ago. She's freaking out a lot, and Cristina being all matter-of-fact isn't exactly helping. She _is_ making things clearer, just not easier.

Zack isn't really as dense as he seems. He knows things (granted, he doesn't know everything), but he's consciously choosing to look past them because as far as he's concerned Meredith Grey is just about the best thing that's ever happened to him. Nobody ever got to him like that, and she makes him feel stuff. That's enough to make him want to stick around.

Sarah Wheeler is a fun character to write. She's a mixture of obnoxious and fun. She says what's on her mind, flirts with the men shamelessly and doesn't deny her attraction to Derek. She doesn't necessarily want him like that. She just enjoys messing around with his head.

'Till next time!

Thanks for reading:)


	16. Chapter Sixteen: All Or Nothing

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except the idea for this fic, Zachary Preston and Sarah Wheeler.

Author's Note: As always, a big thank you to all of you who make time to read and review this story. Thank you so much for all your kind words and continued support. Here's the next chapter, so read on... and most importantly enjoy!

**Chapter Sixteen:** _All Or Nothing  
_"I've had the rest of you;  
Now I want the best of you.  
I don't care if that's not fair.  
Cause I want it all or nothing at all.  
There's no where left to fall  
When you reach the bottom.  
It's now or never."  
O-Town – All Or Nothing

* * *

"You can at least pretend that you're grateful," Sarah said silkily and shot him a pointed, impatient look as she unlocked her rented Honda. 

The pale yellow lights inside flickered to life just before Derek snapped the trunk open, resisting the immature urge to roll his eyes. He made a deliberate racket while shoving his suitcase into the cramped space, aware that she was watching him, probably amused with the angry display. "I'm not grateful," he grumbled moodily, slamming the cover shut, looking up just in time to catch her wince. And he felt a tinge of remorse that coaxed his stern features into a mellow frown to which she smiled brightly, making a great show of disregarding his sour mood.

They shuffled into the car wordlessly. "The truth is," she began solemnly, steering the red sedan away from the airport. "Sloan knows that Richard called me for a consult, so he asked me to meet you at the airport. And you know I can't say no to man candy, so here I am, in the flesh," she concluded with a tight smile his way.

He caught the beginning of that smile obscured by the curtain of dark hair spilling around her shoulders and looked away, shaking his head. "Mark put you up to this?" he sputtered incredulously. "I should've figured."

"He's always been a good friend, Derek. Well, minus the part when he slept with your wife, but that was mostly her fault. She's always had a thing for him," she rambled hastily, cocking her eyebrows suggestively, leaning back into the black seat to offer him an enticing view of her cleavage. "And I've always had a thing for you," she added slowly, her voice heavy with seduction.

The tips of his fingers met his forehead forcefully, soothing away the threatening migraine. He knew she was only half-serious, but it was enough to put him on edge. "Good God, this is not happening," he whispered to himself.

She glared at him, dark eyes narrowing coldly, and jerked the car to a rough stop at a red light. "Okay, fine," she relented briskly. "We won't talk about New York people and our possible fiery affair. Tell me about the Seattle people. Why was the incredibly hot congressman kissing the woman you're infatuated with?" The sarcasm in her poisonous tone was hard to miss, and Derek glanced at her before slumping further into his seat and quietly instructing her to take the highway. "Well," she prodded.

"Because," he said on a long sigh, closing his eyes tiredly. He was too old for this, these games, the chase… everything. He wanted peace and routine, but not a routine that revolved around brownbag lunches and dinners at _21_. He didn't want New York and Addison and Mark. He wanted Seattle. He wanted Meredith Grey and her infectious laughter, drinking single malt scotch at Joe's after long grueling hours in the hospital, watching the sunrise over the ferryboats. And he wished Meredith would let him in again. He wished she would let him heal the shattering pain he had glimpsed during their short stay in Paris. "They're getting married in a few months. Their engagement party is tomorrow," he explained miserably.

She looked rather sympathetic. "Wow, Shep, your life's sure been crazy," she muttered thoughtfully. "Are you going to the party?"

It took him a moment to answer, but when he finally did, a wicked smile claimed Sarah Wheeler's pink lips. "Yeah, I'm going."

"Things are about to get a lot more interesting."

----

Golden champagne bubbled restlessly in crystal flutes, swirling and swishing on endless trips around and around, as if forgotten on a timeless carousel. Followed by a scrumptious selection of hors d'ouevres, the merry gist left a lively buzz in its wake. It was a dazzling crowd, familiar faces brushed and tapered, women in flawless gowns, chattering amiably. The ballroom itself was designed to perfection in hues of gold and white, flattering lights reflecting the rich marble floor, beautiful love ballads singing enchanting melodies.

She stopped a waiter that swept past her and gently wrapped her slender manicured fingers around the stem of the champagne flute. "Thanks," she murmured absently, taking a small tentative sip, her red lipstick leaving a mark on the cool crystal. Her blue-gray eyes wandered aimlessly, lingering for fleeting moments on smiles she recognized until they fastened on the tall approaching figure. His tailored tuxedo fit him faultlessly, and he looked every inch the affluent politician that he was. She smiled faintly and took his outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her, red halter gown and all, into his arms.

"Have I mentioned how absolutely gorgeous you look?" he murmured against her hair.

Meredith laughed and threaded her fingers through his. "You have," she said contemplatively. "But I wouldn't mind hearing it again and again," she teased.

The smile that graced his handsome face left his green eyes twinkling. "Izzie says this next song is dedicated to me," he began quietly, an inviting gleam to his lighthearted wink. "Dance with me," he requested softly, not waiting for her response as he led her to the center of the dance floor. There were at least eight other couples swaying to the fading notes before a new song began, and she blushed, giggling childishly at the thick brown eyebrow he raised in question. She was going to kill Izzie for pulling that stunt.

Zack wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead tenderly. "So what's up with that song anyway?" he asked curiously.

_I came here with a load  
__And it feels so much lighter now I met you  
__Honey, you should know  
__That I could never go on without you  
__Green eyes_

"There, did you hear that?" she said quickly, looking at him, amused grin in place.

"What? Green eyes?" he repeated with a puzzled frown.

"Yes," she enunciated slowly. "You don't get it!" Meredith gasped, drawing away slightly to look into his eyes.

"Get what?"

"Have you looked in a mirror lately, Green Eyes?"

"Wha-Oh!" Zack laughed heartily and gathered her closer. "This is embarrassing," he whispered, his laughter quiet against her ear.

She waited with baited breath for her heart to sing with joy, for her stomach to twist in knots, part of her knowing that it wasn't going to happen, and suddenly she could hear Cristina's voice in her head, loud and clear. _Don't rush into a marriage to escape temptation_. And she was afraid that was exactly what she was doing. It wasn't that she didn't care about Zack. It was just that he didn't make her knees buckle with his smile, and the idea of never feeling that way again paralyzed her. This extraordinary affair was hers, her engagement party, and she wasn't glowing with happiness. She wasn't feeling like the luckiest woman alive. She rather felt overwhelmed and nostalgic, and she wished for the soothing tones of another man's voice.

Over Zack's shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Izzie, who sent a wink her way, stirring the guilt. She diverted her gaze nervously, quick eyes following Richard across the ballroom to the entrance where the vivid image of the man emblazoned in her heart was embodied. Her breath caught, and she felt the ground wash away from beneath her feet, leaving her dangling in an abyss of surreal disbelief. But he was so very real, with his raven black hair styled beautifully, dressed in a black suit with a black tie. Derek Shephard was laughing softly at something the stunning dark-haired woman by his side had whispered to him. Meredith's heart was beating so furiously, she was sure Zack could feel it through his layers of clothing.

"Meredith? Did you hear me?" he asked, pulling back to peruse her features worriedly, and his brow furrowed in a deep frown at the stricken look on her face. But she couldn't bring herself to look at him, couldn't tear her eyes away from Derek, especially now that he had finally caught sight of her, and he was gazing back at her just as intently, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. Zack followed her gaze over his shoulder and mumbled a quiet, "Oh." He sighed loudly, and by a miracle she would remember to thank God for later, she snapped her eyes back to his and swallowed tightly. "I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you. We sort of ran into each other on the plane and I invited him," he explained nonchalantly like it wasn't a big deal.

Finally recovering from the initial shock of finding him there, she nodded briskly. "It's, ah, fine," she said in a clipped tone and coiled away from him.

"Meredith," he said slowly. "I thought it would be okay." Suspicion loitered in his deep green eyes, and she forced herself not to lash out at him.

"I know what you thought," she jeered accusingly, brushing past him angrily, hearing his long-suffering sigh. And she was stabbed by guilt. Reaching their table, she lifted her unfinished glass of champagne and took a long satisfying gulp.

"You look like you could use something stronger than that," Cristina observed, coming to stand beside her. She looked just as awkward as Meredith felt in her indigo dress. "I take it you saw McDreamy and the McSlut who's hanging all over him, not that you should mind. This _is_ your engagement party," she finished on a careless shrug and gave Meredith a knowing look.

"I can't _believe_ Zack invited him," she hissed furiously, fighting a shiver. She could _feel_ him watching her.

"Green Eyes officially has my respect. Smart man," she smirked, extracting Meredith's flute of champagne and finishing it off in one swallow.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked indignantly.

"It's about to get good. Here they come," Cristina murmured, nudging her lightly with an elbow to her ribs.

Meredith pivoted slowly on her high-heeled Prada shoes, planning to glower at her fiancé, but instead she found herself face-to-face with Derek. Their eyes met and locked, and only courtesy forced her to appraise the woman whose long arm was entangled with his. She instantly recognized her from the conference in Paris and tried to smile but failed miserably. Zack was quick to fill the tense silence by inserting an introduction that made her feel resentful. "Meredith, this is Sarah Wheeler, Derek's…"

"Date," the woman finished for him, stretching her free hand to shake Meredith's. "Congratulations, Meredith! He's a real catch," she said with a charming grin.

Derek shifted uncomfortably at her side and smiled tersely. "Congratulations," he echoed tonelessly.

Sensing the awkwardness, Zack cleared his throat. "Miss Wheeler, would you like to dance?" he offered abruptly.

Meredith's eyes went wide with wonder as she speechlessly listened to the woman delightedly accept the haphazard offer. Cristina stifled a chuckle, and Derek frowned until Sarah Wheeler kissed him lightly on his down turned lips and whispered, "Don't go too bored without me."

He shook his dark head in something that closely resembled disbelief, and Meredith found her hatred for that particular woman growing by the minute.

"Would you like to…" Derek asked her hesitantly, nodding in the direction of the dance floor.

Still rooted to the spot, Zack gave her a challenging look. "Go ahead, babe," he encouraged with a light smile that carried the weight of the world.

She met his stare evenly and smiled. "Fine," she muttered, her hand curving into Derek's. The grip of his strong fingers was soothing, and she followed him thoughtlessly to a secluded corner of the dance floor, her mind reeling with the fact that she was being put to the test. The butterflies that took sudden flight in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with the daring gleam in Zack's eyes, and everything to do with the familiar intimacy with which Derek's firm hands caught her waist. His touch burnt her skin, and she ached to breach the professional distance he forced between them. The familiar notes of a song she had chosen filled the majestic aura, and she realized in that particular moment, she didn't care about anything but the two of them. She didn't care about her fiancé's deliberate experiment or that she was furious with him for it.

_Yesterday I got lost in the circus  
__Feeling like such a mess_

"So, Doctor Shephard, you sure don't waste anytime, do you?" she asked cattily. It was hypocritical of her to call him on it, but she couldn't help it. She'd been stung by the comfortable familiarity between him and the beautiful brunette.

"Sarah's an old friend," he replied dismissively, his eyes flitting over her face, down her formally attired body, and when he looked back into her eyes, he did nothing to conceal the hungry look in his. "That dress is sinful," he grunted.

She colored with pleasure at the blatant admiration in his gaze and played it to her advantage. "Old friends kiss you all the time?"

A cocky grin lifted the corners of his lips just barely, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "We never really discussed the kissing aspect of our relationship. I think she likes me," he concluded, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

She laughed softly and shook her head in amusement, unconsciously moving closer to his broad chest. "You're as cocky as ever," she countered, her arms sliding discreetly around his shoulders.

"And you are breathtaking, literally breathtaking," he murmured, breaking his own rules as his hand slipped to her back and pressed her against him. His mouth was against her hair, and she didn't stop him. She let him hold her with the intimacy of an illicit lover, loving the feel of him far too much to end it. "Is it wrong that I want to kiss you?" he hummed urgently.

His wandering fingers sent an exquisite thrill down her spine, and she drew in a deep shuddering breath. "Derek, you shouldn't…"

"I'm just being honest. Isn't that what you've always wanted me to be? I'm being honest, Meredith, and the truth is that I don't care about Sarah Wheeler, or Addison or anyone because there's only one woman out there for me. _You_ are that woman. I'm just waiting for you to realize it," he said steadily, and lowered his head in a subtle gesture that made his breath stir the curled wisps of hair at her temple.

Her eyes shuttered slowly, and she dropped her chin to avoid the earnestness of his sharp stare. "I can't," she demurred.

"You left," he said softly, his tone somber, and the livid anger in his eyes masked a profound hurt that she sensed in the way he let his gaze linger on meaningless things. "After everything… you just left."

"Derek…"

"Why did you leave, Meredith?" There it was again, that vulnerable glint, the slightly parted lips and telling gaze. He was carelessly throwing a part of him out to her, but she couldn't take it.

"What happened in Paris was a mistake," she whispered, regretting the words as soon as they left her lips because a flash of hurt crossed his chiseled features. And she hadn't just rejected what little of himself he had offered, she'd trampled it. And she hated herself for it.

"A mistake," he repeated, his eyes hardening. The familiar signs of his rage began with a clenched jaw that twitched restlessly, and his hold on her loosened, setting her gently away from his warmth.

"I'm sorry," she tried meekly.

"No, I'm sorry." His harsh voice took her by surprise. "I'm sorry for thinking it actually meant something because I forgot. You like sex, remember?"

"Derek!" she gasped, but the cruel words didn't hurt half as much as watching him stalk away from the dance floor, knowing that she was responsible for the pain she'd seen in his eyes. She forgave the sharp jab his words drove into her chest because he was hurting, and it felt terrible to return a miniscule shred of all the sorrow he had caused her.

_When you're gone, all the colors fade  
__When you're gone, no New Year's Day parade  
__You're gone  
__Colors seem to fade_

She bit down on her lip and desperately clung to her cool, willing away the embarrassment at being deserted in the middle of a dance floor. Alex saved her grace by putting his arms around her consolingly, and continuing a convincing sway to the playing song.

"You okay?" he asked with genuine concern brightening his gaze.

Meredith pressed her forehead to his shoulder and released a wavering breath. "No, I'm not okay," she admitted shakily and felt the raucous movement of his nod.

"Come on, let's go get you a drink."

----

She didn't remember much of the rest of the party, only that Derek left minutes after their short-lived dance, and that Zack avoided her like the plague. The former she understood, but the latter dazzled her. She couldn't place the brusque laden looks he cast her way or the brief almost perfunctory statements they exchanged. And she didn't have the energy to figure it out. Heaving an angry sigh, she let her eyes drift over the now empty ballroom, startled when his rigid form walked around her and right past her.

"Zack," she called out softly, knowing that her calm gaze was dense with confusion.

His long strides came to a sudden halt, and he swiveled to face her with an intense glower, green eyes dimmed with disappointment. He shoved a hand into the front pocket of his formal slacks and waited for her to continue. He didn't ask her what she wanted. He just waited for her to say something, and she had nothing to say, not to the sullen man in front of her.

"What's going on?" she heard herself ask in a brittle voice.

He allowed a small bitter smile before turning and continuing his even tread out the entrance.

She gaped after him, stunned into silence until her long wrap was draped around her shoulders snugly. Tilting her head to the side, she met the kind elderly stare of Zack's driver. "Doctor Grey, Congressman Preston asked me to drive you home. Right this way," he instructed politely, signaling towards the entrance.

Repressing a humiliated sob, she walked out into the chilly night where Zack's rented Mercedes stood idle, and Cristina was waiting on the curb. He'd left the car for her, and for some reason that made everything a lot worse.

"You look like hell," Cristina said quietly, slipping into the backseat of the car beside her.

"I feel like hell," she whimpered, wiping furiously at the mocking tear that coursed down her cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw Zack leaving alone, so I figured you'd need someone to…" she trailed off awkwardly and shrugged her slim shoulders under the thin straps of her dress. "This looks ridiculous, doesn't it?" she grumbled, pointing at the soft-looking material.

Meredith found herself laughing in spite of herself. "It does," she agreed, leaning back into the luxurious leather seat. She closed her eyes tiredly and sniffed back the onslaught of threatening tears. "Derek is furious, and Zack's not talking to me," she muttered glumly, swiping away the tendrils of hair falling across her forehead.

Cristina sighed. "Meredith…"

"I didn't do anything wrong. I danced with him. Zack _told_ me to dance with him, and now he's acting like he caught us naked in an on-call room. I mean I'm the one who's supposed to be mad at him for setting the whole thing up in the first place…"

"Meredith…"

"_What_?" she snapped irritably, but Cristina's strangely emphatic glance didn't grow angry or annoyed.

"You melted," she stressed with a slight grimace. "Hell, it was obvious to every single person in that enormous ballroom that you are completely and utterly in love with Derek Shephard. You _melted_, Meredith."

And that undeniable fact made everything much clearer. She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands and sobbed silently, grateful for the comforting hand Cristina placed on her shoulder.

"What am I going to do?"

* * *

And that's that... 

First thing's first... the song that Mer and Zack danced to is _Green Eyes_ by Coldplay, and the song that Mer and Derek danced to is _Colors_ by Amos Lee.

So this didn't exactly turn out the way Meredith expected it to. Things sort of fell apart. Derek showed up. Zack tested her, and she failed... miserably. Because while she was dancing with Derek, taking a short walk down memory lane, _everybody_ was watching. Zack was watching, and it really killed him to find her so wrapped up in her former flame. As Cristina kindly pointed out, she _melted_. And that is not good for Zack who wanted to see a strictly platonic dance...

And Derek... well, he's just hurt.

There's only one or two chapters left to this fic, and a short epilogue that I have planned. So thanks for sticking with me!

Thank you for reading:)


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Hold On To Me

Disclaimer: We're almost at the end of this, and I still don't own anything except Zachary Preston (a fictional character I happen to be fond of).

Author's Note: As always, I'd like to thank you all for the mind-blowing response you had to the last chapter. I'm really glad you enjoyed it. As I mentioned before, this chapter is the last one (there's still an epilogue though). And it's long, really long. Thanks for sticking around! Read on and enjoy!

**Chapter Seventeen: **_Hold On To Me, Never Let Me Go  
_"I wanted you to stay.  
'Cause I needed,  
I need to hear you say  
That I love you.  
I have loved you all along,  
And I forgive you  
For being away for far too long.  
So keep breathing  
'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore.  
Believe it.  
Hold on to me, and  
Never let me go."  
Far Away - Nickleback

* * *

_To Meredith,  
__My bride-to-be… my family.  
__Love,  
__Zack_

She stared at the small card wistfully, recognizing his familiar poignant scrawl, and she knew what it meant. She knew what it meant to be Zachary Preston's family.

Years ago, the brilliant man who gave compelling speeches to millions of Americans had had a falling out with his mother and his only brother. Eloquent words, piercing eyes and undeniable charisma couldn't save Zachary Preston from the misery of solitude or the haunting pain that came with it. He'd been abandoned, left to work his way through the barricades of life without a single shoulder to lean on save his own, and he reminded Meredith so much of herself that sometimes it was unbearable to picture him in that heartbreaking setting. Meredith knew what it was like to be abandoned. She'd experienced the insecurity of being unloved and unwanted, and she often thought that it had irreparably damaged her. Scary and damaged as he was, Zack had taken a leap, and it was torturous to think what the small but laden acknowledgement must have cost such a strong, proud man. Family meant need and weakness. To people like her and Zack, family meant that someone with the miraculous ability to slip right through layers of solid walls that protected their hearts.

She was Zachary Preston's someone.

And she was just like him, forsaken without excuses, estranged from her acclaimed family.

They could have been each other's family, she thought with a long sigh, brushing her thumb over the scribbled words one last time before tucking the plain card into her tote bag.

The long-stalked thorny crimson roses sat in a beautiful vase that belonged to her mother. It had been a sweet gesture to wake up to, especially after a supposed engagement party, red roses and a card that held all of ten words that should've meant the world to her. Instead, they served as a bitter reminder of her inability to cling to the notion of happiness in whatever package it came. She didn't know _how_ to be happy, and that was enough to make her heart feel heavy.

Dropping listlessly onto the kitchen chair, she propped her elbows on the gleaming tabletop and buried her face in her upturned palms, wishing vehemently that she could erase the lines of disappointment she'd seen etched to Zack's lean face, aching to soothe the taxing hurt frown she'd drawn across Derek's brow. She knew it wouldn't be fair to call Zack and mend the bridge she'd incinerated, pretending once again that she was unshakeable in her conviction to permanently make Derek a part of her past. She didn't have the energy or the will to play that role and fall into another farce, another façade, another masquerade. She simply couldn't do it anymore, not when she knew with every fiber of her being that she belonged in heart, mind, body and soul to the one man she had promised herself time and time again to forget. After last night, she could no more deny it than she could lie about her name. The moment he'd taken her in his arms and aligned her body to his, she'd been possessed by a power and force that didn't belong to her. She'd fallen in love with him again, with the way his indigo eyes darkened with desire as they swept over her body and the way his nimble fingertips felt against her skin. She'd fallen in love with the persistent man, who insisted that she belonged with him.

"I'm going to the hospital, you coming?" George asked, his closely shaven baby face popping into the kitchen unannounced, cutting into her thoughts.

She looked up at him, offering a small sorry excuse for a smile, and nodded her blond head slowly, sending the unrestrained tendrils tumbling across her forehead. Meredith swept them away carelessly and pushed her chair back, relishing the disturbing screech as the wooden legs scratched the floor. "Yeah, I'm coming. I got the night-shift for taking a day off," she explained uselessly. She planted her sneaker-clad feet onto the pale familiar kitchen tiles and swiftly stood up.

George's smile was reluctant, a forced physical gesture, and his gaze swooped around restlessly, not daring to linger on her forlorn features. When he caught sight of the roses, he stared at them unabashedly. "He really loves you, you know," he said softly.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and ignoring the dull ache in her chest, advanced towards the door where he was standing. "Yeah, I know," she whispered, brushing past him.

He lingered in the doorway to their quaint little kitchen before wordlessly following her across the foyer and out into the cold. It had just stopped raining, so she treaded carefully along the wet pavement until she was safely tucked in the passenger seat of her blue jeep. George closed his door with peculiar calmness and started the engine. "Are you going to marry him?" he asked, careening the car onto the road.

"I don't know if I can," she admitted in a voice so brittle she barely recognized it as her own. It was difficult to thwart the interrogation of George's impossibly high standards.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Yesterday, you and Shephard…" He turned his face briefly and gave her a puzzled look, deliberately letting his sentence dangle unfinished, like another burden on her shoulders.

"George," she warned, knowing that her small voice was anything but threatening. "Don't."

Shaking his head adamantly, he pulled his lips into a tight grim line. "You know I just don't get it. What is it about him that makes it so hard for you to realize that he is going to hurt you every time? What is it about Derek Shephard that you just can't stop loving him?" It was exasperation that characterized this unusual outburst, and Meredith loved him for caring so much about her.

She fell silent under the potency of the justified accusation, pondering what she could possibly say to make it seem right. "Derek is…" she began hesitantly, biting the corner of her lips in apprehension. "He's my someone," Meredith murmured finally.

And that was enough.

----

She wearily trudged out of the locker room in her scrubs, dreading the long night that lay ahead of her. At least, she thought, smiling at the bubbling nurse who greeted her exuberantly, the diversion would keep her from thinking about Derek, and how much she wished she could set everything aside and just be with him.

"Doctor Grey! We were just about to page you, but Doctor Bailey said you're probably on your way," Tyler said in a rushed breathless voice, his dark hand latching to her elbow in a friendly motion. His usually appropriately sympathetic eyes were overflowing with barely restrained excitement.

She furrowed her brow in confusion, desperately trying to control the erratic movement that sent her heart lunging against her ribcage, slamming into it relentlessly. "What's wrong?" she breathed, unable to stomach the thought of bad news, but by the way a smile turned his lips, bad news wasn't what Tyler was about to give her.

"It's your father. He's awake," he announced, his fingers giving her thin arm a light squeeze before falling back to his side.

She heard herself laugh. She didn't know why the sound that left her throat in a strangled strain resembled a laugh or a disbelieving giggle. For a minute, her heart beat was even more furious as Tyler frowned at her with amusement written plainly across his symmetric features.

"You should go check on him," he suggested the obvious and made a signal with his hand before rushing down the hallway to the elevators.

She didn't try to move from the spot she felt eternally rooted to, not until her heart regained its normal rhythm, and she felt strong enough to place one foot in front of the other without faltering. Her father was awake. She wasn't sure it was wise to call him that or rather think of him like that. Thatcher Grey was formal enough. It made the man who had once been a loving, tender father sound like a distant uncle who lived all the way across the country and occasionally sent letters of acknowledgement. Putting it that way made it easier for her to pivot unhurriedly and make her way to his room, which was only a couple of doors down the long corridor.

She paused at the door, feeling like a ridiculous adolescent for not having the courage to push the already ajar door wide open. The sounds that came from inside were quiet shuffles, the click of a penlight, the gentle beep of the heart machine, the graceful movement of a man. Steeling herself against whatever awaited her, she placed her palm on the polished wood and pushed into the door, surging into the room like an intruder. But her quiet entrance only attracted one occupant of the modest room.

"Mister Grey…"

It was Derek's voice, his agile movements, his blue eyes that lit on her when she looked up from the ground and met his gaze with wide gray eyes that shone with vulnerability, naked of their veneer. He looked away quickly, his eyes landing on her weak father, who chuckled wryly and pressed a fleshy hand to his forehead.

"Please call me Thatcher. Mister Grey makes me feel old and important," he said gruffly, opening his eyes and lifting himself up slightly. His mouth was open as if he was about to say something else, but it was completely forgotten as his benign eyes fell on her, blinking twice to make sure she was really there. And then a sheen of tears coated the bright irises, and a smile quivered on his chapped lips. "Meredith," he said her name quietly like she was a vision that he would be mocked for imagining.

For some reason, that made her throat feel dry and gave her the courage to take a tiny step into the room. "I'm glad you're awake," she rasped, feeling small under the gentle scrutiny of Derek's gaze.

Thatcher's face flushed under the force of his smile. "I'm glad you're here, Meredith. Life…" he trailed off tiredly, his stare never leaving her face. "Life's too short," he finished quietly, and the meaning of his words sank on her like a healing balm that reminded her of fleeting moments of joy as a child. The man in that bed was responsible for mostly every genuine smile she remembered, and part of her had never given up on him as a father because she loved him. He was family. He had cared, and he'd known how to show it.

Sensing her discomfort and her inability to find a suitable response, Derek cleared his throat audibly. "Thatcher, your vitals are good. I need to run a couple of more tests to make sure there's nothing to worry about besides a bothersome headache that'll fade in a month. Welcome back," he smiled warmly and lowered his chin at the heartfelt 'thank you' the elder man issued. Snapping the chart closed, he hooked it to its appointed place at the foot of the bed, his broad shoulder brushing against hers as he left the room.

"Susan's just down to get some coffee," Thatcher filled the void with that unnecessary statement.

She flashed a reassuring smile his way. "It's great to see you. I… I'll be back to check on you later," she promised, turning around and hastily scurrying after Derek.

Her hurried footsteps barely caught up with his long strides, and she caught his arm before he could enter the locker room, obviously done with his shift for the night. "Derek," she breathed.

He stopped in his tracks and hesitated for a long painful moment before turning to meet her burning gaze. The look he gave her was betrayed and tender altogether, and she couldn't fathom the thought that he was angry with her.

"I'm…" she spoke mindlessly, her eyes pleading, her disposition soft and tempered, but he cut her off by placing a formal hand on her shoulder and smiling tightly.

"I'll take care of him, Meredith. He's going to be just fine. I promise," he added for good measure, his eyes boring into hers reassuringly, masking every shred of emotion, and she found herself grudgingly admiring his ability to completely shut her out after she'd failed to do the same to him on several occasions.

Allowing herself a terse little smile that made it nowhere past her lips, she nodded. "Thank you."

There was an imprint of a glare across his face when he jerked his head away, leveling his stare on the parting elevator doors. He shoved the door to the locker room open with his elbow and was half-way inside when he muttered a scarcely audible, "You're welcome."

Meredith sighed and ambled back to Thatcher Grey's room – her father's room – ready to mend bridges that would never burn.

----

"I never thought I'd say this, but Susan Grey is actually nice," Cristina whispered, her eyes darting about comically, as if threatened by the notion of being overheard.

Meredith's amused laughter faded into a complacent smile, and she blew out a great heaving breath as she leaned against the railing of the bridge-like veranda that offered an expanded view of the bustling city life outside Seattle Grace. "Yeah, she's nice," she agreed on a soft sigh, tucking a wayward strand of blond hair behind her ear. "They must have made a great family," she whispered longingly, oblivious to the cautious glance Cristina cast at her. "You don't think we actually turn into our mothers, do you?" She knew it was a foolish thing to ask, especially of someone like Cristina but the uncertainty that adhered to her conscious was unsettling and impossible to live with.

Smirking a little at the suggestion, Cristina lifted one shapely eyebrow over her dark eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"Thanks."

"You'll do fine, Meredith. Whatever it is, you'll do fine," she finished on an awkward note that she was quick to fill with a sarcastic jab, "So are the wedding bells going to ring for you and Zack?" At Meredith's emphatic shake of her blond head, Cristina actually looked pleased. "What about Derek?" she prodded with a spark of interest, tempered by caring.

Her shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "I can't be with Zack feeling the way I do about Derek, and I can't be with Derek until he gives me something real," she explained to her best friend's knowing dark gaze.

"You mean something besides screaming orgasms."

Meredith smiled saucily at the insinuation. "That's exactly what I mean," she retorted in a lighthearted tone that was belied by the hopeless defeat she knew to be in her eyes.

"Speaking of the brain surgeon, isn't that him sitting on the bench?" she asked, nodding towards the long wooden bench outside the hospital where a dark-haired man lounged in a graceful heap, staring into the darkness with aimless abandon.

Meredith felt the familiar catch of her breath and for the first time in what seemed like forever welcomed the feeling instead of fighting it. "That is… Derek," she confirmed, squinting slightly to bring his distant form into sharper focus, but the effort was futile. Spurred by an outburst of tenderness for the man gazing reverently into the night, she swiveled and pressed her back to the cool glass. "I'll…"

"Go," Cristina snapped, clearly annoyed with her as she ushered her in the direction of the elevators.

Shooting a grateful smile at her, she didn't think of pulling a jacket on before riding the elevator to the lobby and hastily crossing the brief distance to the entrance. She wasn't even aware of how bitingly chilly the night wind had turned as she stepped out of the hospital and under the brilliant silver light of a half-moon. Her steps didn't grow slower the nearer she drew to him. In fact, she was fairly certain that the last few steps closely resembled a leap, which left her seated beside him, a safe distance away.

He was startled by her sudden appearance and looked up sharply, his mellow features cast into glowing relief by the streetlight. The lower half of his face was shadowed by stubble that had grown darker after a presumably long day at the hospital. Other than that one brief passing glance, he gave no acknowledgement to her presence; nonetheless, she smiled and forced herself to be brave.

"Please look at me," she whispered desperately, but his stone-set expression merely flickered before returning to its stoic reality. She wished for the man she'd known in Paris, the fun relenting Derek whose love for a city was reflected in his eyes. That man wasn't as hollow as the one sitting next to her. "You know, for a man who claims Seattle is his favorite city in the world, you make a lousy job of showing it. Paris made…"

"Don't," he bit out, and she read the continuation of that sentence in the way his jaw clenched even tighter. _Don't mention Paris_.

"I know you're mad at me. I know that what I said is unforgivable, but you know that it's not true. It _can't_ be true," she sighed and raised her hand to stop his attempt to speak. "Don't say anything," she said firmly to which he raised his eyebrows in mocking amusement. "Paris didn't mean anything, Derek." She met his bewildered gaze with her own steadily and gave him what little she still owned of her heart. "It meant everything. It meant you. It meant that I never stopped loving you, that being with you is not something I can help. And I tried. I really tried to move on with my life. I even got engaged," she laughed, unconsciously wiggling her fingers where the ring she had worn until yesterday had once rested, but there wasn't bitterness to the rich sound, only a sense of disbelief and wonder. "I wanted to be able to let you go. God, how I wanted to do that, but the truth is that I couldn't then. I can't now. I can't seem to get you out of my life or out of my heart. All of it actually makes me hate…"

"You're rambling," he interrupted in a voice so soft, so soothing and a gentle smile that lit up his entire face. Her gaze swung back to his fiercely clinging to the hope radiant in his beautiful indigo eyes as his arm draped along the back of the bench, long fingers tenderly grasping her shoulder. He tugged her closer under the protective strength of his muscular arm, and she went willingly, mindless of the wet stains tainting her light blue scrubs, letting her head fall against his bicep, closing her eyes against the disappointment that raged inside her. But his hand was insistent as it tilted her chin upwards, forcing her to lift her eyelids and peer into the blue eyes that sparkled into hers with a promise that hit too close to home. He framed the side of her face warmly, the pad of his thumb absently stroking her chin, his gaze holding hers captive, and he smiled, a smile befitting of the nickname he had been fondly given almost one entire year ago. "I love you, Meredith."

She swallowed tightly, wondering why her heart had suddenly jumped into her throat, clogging it until she was hardly able to breathe. Derek didn't give her much time to absorb the enormity of his soft admission before he pressed his lips to hers, easing her into a tender, loving kiss that made up in emotion for what it lacked in skill. His warm palm slid to her nape, and he lightly rolled his thumb over the side of her neck.

Breaking the escalating passion of his initially tepid caress, she tilted her head to stare at him. "What?" she whispered breathlessly, fervently searching the depths of his serious gaze.

He kissed her again with closed lips, light caresses that didn't really qualify as kisses. "I've been in love with you for… ever," he murmured earnestly, his husky voice grating against her ear.

Cupping his stubbly face, she guided his mouth to hers and kissed him deeply, her tongue boldly foraying into his mouth. He groaned and pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, his rapid breathing mingling with hers. Derek's large warm hands trailed down her arms, bared by the short-sleeved scrubs. "Aren't you freezing?" He frowned and pulled her even closer after taking off his jacket and draping it around her shoulders. She was unusually silent as he pressed his lips to her temple. "Meredith?"

Her reply was a satisfied hum.

"When we were together in Paris, I'd already filed for divorce. Addison and I were over before our plane left Seattle and we both knew it. We just needed to come to terms with the fact that after eleven years we wouldn't be each other's family anymore. I'm just incredibly sad that it took me so long to realize that you're everything I could ever ask for…"

Looking up at him, she smiled at the heartfelt words and claimed his lips with her own in a fleeting kiss. She sobered as she was struck by a sudden realization and worried her lips anxiously. "I still haven't told Zack," she said abruptly.

"What?" His frown was incidental.

"After he saw us dancing last night, he wouldn't talk to me. I just need to talk to him."

The firm line of his slightly swollen lips narrowed in sympathy. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you through that. If I hadn't been so stupid…"

She pressed a slender finger to his lips that was swiftly replaced by her own lips as she kissed him again, indulging in the guiltless freedom of doing so. "You're here now."

"I am," he agreed with a tender smile that turned mischievous as his hand trailed down her side. Indigo eyes sparkled wickedly. "And I want to make babies," he confided, attacking her neck with kisses.

She squealed, squirming in his tight grasp, in complete disregard to the relatively public place they were in.

"What do you two think you're doing?"

Meredith wasn't surprised by the intrusion of Bailey's voice, nor was the other woman stunned when they disentangled and looked up at her with flushed giddy faces. The situation was so familiar that all three of them were reigning in the urge to laugh, even Bailey who was struggling to keep a scowl on her face.

"We're keeping warm?" Derek suggested lamely, wincing at the glare the short doctor directed at him.

"Aren't you on call?" she asked Meredith with a disdainful look in her eyes.

Meredith nodded solemnly. "I was just stepping out for a breath…"

"Five minutes, Grey. Five minutes," she emphasized, disapproval written plainly across her face. Giving them one last warning look, she sauntered back to the hospital with the hasty step only a doctor could manage.

"This seems oddly familiar. You and me, cold weather, wooden bench, Bailey, you hitting on me…" Derek trailed off thoughtfully, his lips quirked with unconcealed amusement.

She slapped his arm playfully. "For the record, you were the one hitting on _me_."

One black wing of an eyebrow rose over his eyes. "So you do remember," he said, keeping his arm around her shoulders and pressing her tightly to his side.

"If Bailey never sees us in a compromising position again, it would be too soon," she mumbled under her breath.

He had the audacity to grin at that. "I bet she thinks we're like two horny teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other." And as if to solidify the saying, he stroked the side of her thigh.

Sucking in an erratic breath, she forcefully shut her eyes and covered his hand with hers, pushing it away. "I'm glad you're finding this amusing."

He chuckled ruefully and came to his feet, pulling her with him. He snatched her into his arms and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her mist-dampened, lavender-scented hair. "You feel good," he breathed. "You feel really good."

She kissed his jaw softly. "I love you."

"I know," he whispered, finally releasing her, and she leaned into the kiss he brushed against her lips. "Call me after you talk to him, okay?"

"I will," she promised, waving at him as she turned around and started back towards the hospital.

"Meredith," he called her back. She turned and continued walking backwards slowly. "I do want babies and ferryboats, lots of ferryboats," he said with a grin.

She laughed at him and shook her head. "Goodnight, Doctor Shephard."

----

Zack was sitting on her kitchen chair, ignoring the mug of hot chocolate she'd placed on the table before him. And the way he sat there, looking boyishly mussed and disgruntled took her back to the morning after he'd spoken to a drunk Derek, a little over seven months ago. She pushed aside the sense of déjà vu and smiled hesitantly from where she was leaning against the counter, effectively blocking his view of the dozen red roses he'd had delivered to her house that morning.

"Zack," she began nervously, wringing her hands in an austere attempt to alleviate her taut nerves.

"You're not wearing your ring," he perceived quietly, deep voice void of any traces of emotion. His green eyes fluttered over her hands before moving to the ground and staying there.

"I actually…" she stopped to clear her throat and shoved her jittery hand into the front pocket of her faded Levis, digging out the impressive diamond ring. Taking two long steps towards him, she deferentially placed it next to the steaming red mug.

He fixed his gaze onto the inanimate object, and then snapped it back to her face with an expression that was hard to decipher. She supposed it could be shock, maybe anger. Maybe he even expected her to ask him to resize it, but he smiled, a small implacable smile. It chilled her to the bone, not because she feared the incredible man Zachary Preston was, but because she felt like this could send him over the brink and back to the ruthless man he'd resembled, the man who carried the bitterness of abandon.

"Zack," Meredith whispered again.

"I see."

"I don't think you do."

"I do," he insisted fiercely, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. "I was there last night. I saw you, Meredith. I saw the way you looked at him and the way he held you. There was nothing remotely friendly about that."

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He laughed humorlessly and shook his head with resolution. In that gesture, she recognized the reformed man she'd known him to be, and she was flooded with relief. "I'm sorry, too. Part of this is actually my fault…"

"It's not…"

"It is," he said firmly. "I knew about the two of you. I knew you were still in love with him while we were dating. I knew all of that, but I didn't back away because I thought I could make you forget. When you accepted my proposal, I thought that meant you were finally letting that part of your past rest. I was foolish enough to believe that, and I ignored the signs. Whenever I knew you were thinking about him, whenever you and Cristina talked about him, I simply looked the other way, hoping that one day you'd be able to get it out of your mind, out of your heart. I should've known better."

She didn't know she was crying until a tear slipped over her parted lips and into her mouth.

He sighed and shuffled out of his chair slowly. "I knew he was going to be in Paris, and when you came back and didn't break up with me, I thought this thing with the two of you was over," he recalled with a tinge of remorse coloring his thick voice. "Evidently, I was wrong about many things."

"I'm sorry," she choked out.

"Shh, don't cry, Meredith. You couldn't have changed this. I could have. Don't be sorry. You're following your heart wherever it may lead you," he said consolingly, wrapping his arms around her.

She pushed her tear-streaked face into his shirtfront. "You deserve better."

The shake to his head was as emphatic as hers had been earlier. "None of this means that I don't love you as much as I did yesterday. I do love you."

Wiping her eyes messily with the backs of her hands, she backed away to appraise him. "That'll change," she promised.

He gave a lopsided smile that made his tired eyes brighter. "It didn't change for you and Derek," he pointed out wryly.

"It'll change for you."

He chuckled and chucked her chin lightly, choosing to ignore her comment. "I've never seen you happier than you were today before I made you cry," he admitted softly.

"I love him."

The simple explanation seemed to satisfy him. He smiled at her and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. "Goodbye, Meredith."

* * *

And that wraps it up… I hope.

The epilogue is coming really soon. I'm aiming for cuteness and fluff, which I didn't give much of in this story… If there's anything that you still feel is unresolved, don't hesitate to comment.

Thanks a lot for reading:)


	18. Epilogue

Disclaimer: This has come to an end and I still don't own anything except Zachary Preston.

Author's Note: As always, thank you all for your wonderful reviews and your continued support for this story. Here's the epilogue, finally! I hope you enjoyed reading this story and will enjoy this epilogue! I haven't used a song at the beginning of this chapter because it's basically a round up to everything and all the songs. I guess you could choose any happy song ;). Read on and enjoy!

**Epilogue**

* * *

At three months and five days, Haley Ellis Grey-Shephard had a pair of lungs that would put any vocalist to shame. She let out a loud squeal of what he presumed was laughter before sending one tiny fist flying through the air. He caught the bundled little hand adoringly until five small fingers unfurled to grip his thumb. His chuckle rumbled in his chest, delighting the gurgling infant, and the toothless smile on her beautiful face grew even bigger if possible.

A broad smile swept over his face as he bent his dark head to nuzzle her tummy with his nose. Louder squeals of joy pealed from her tiny form.

"You're never going to leave her alone, are you?" Meredith's tone was scolding but affectionate, a blend he had grown accustomed to after repeatedly breaking the alleged rules of their household.

Lifting his head slowly, he moved his gaze to her dainty figure, endearingly set with reluctant disapproval. She stood in the doorway to their bedroom, leaning against the frame, slender arms crossed before her chest, and she was smiling, a smile laden with love and amusement. His heart ached with love for her. Derek gave himself a mental shake to clear his head and flashed his most convincingly charming grin at her. "But, Mer, she's having fun," he protested with a guilty look in his indigo eyes as he scooped the baby off the bed and nestled her protectively against his chest. As if in agreement, the baby burbled something entirely incoherent and slapped his scruffy jaw. "See, she agrees," he presented his case with a comical air that made him feel lighthearted and young.

Meredith shook her head at him and relaxed her stance, but her small smile never disappeared. "_She_ was sleeping before you came home and woke her up," she admonished him, walking over to the side of their king-sized bed where he was sitting propped against the rich mahogany headboard.

While his eyes actively followed her unhurried saunter into the brightly lit room, he pretended to gasp in shock. "I did _not_ wake her up."

She arched one golden perfectly curved eyebrow at him in disbelief, lingering at the foot of the bed even as he moved aside and invitingly opened his free arm. But Derek could see the melting expression in her gray eyes, and the way her features gradually softened. "You're incorrigible," she muttered with faux disgruntlement, forcing a frown before closing the distance between her and the bed. Slipping into the familiar curve of his arm, she curled up against his chest and contentedly placed her head on his shoulder, reaching out one small hand to lovingly stroke the lulled infant's soft cheek. "You're lucky," she said, her low voice closely resembling a whisper, and he was tempted to agree with her before she even uttered the continuation to her sentence. "She's falling right back to sleep."

He laughed softly, trying not to shake with it for fear of disrupting the small person lying against him trustingly. He could think of a million other reasons why he was damned lucky, and he would have told her that had she not placed her hand on his stomach and moved it back and forth in a rhythmic oscillation that threatened to make him very fidgety. "Meredith," he warned in a serious tone, but she only laughed at him softly. "I went to visit your mother today," he said quietly, almost regretting his choice of topic when she went still against him.

"Yeah?" she asked stiffly, and he noticed the light protective hand that traveled from his abdomen to the baby's back. Her thumb swept repeatedly over the fine pink cotton of the baby-outfit.

He sighed, and his hand imitated hers by sweeping over her tense back soothingly. "She asked about you," he added, a small smile claiming his lips when Haley finally gave in to the temptation of slumber. "She was reading the card you sent her from Paris."

"Derek," she griped, but her voice wobbled, and she almost faltered under the loving kiss he brushed against her hairline.

He had no intention of backing down. "You haven't gone to visit since before Haley was born," he pointed out with a concerned frown. "Why?"

"No reason," she snapped suddenly and looked sincerely apologetic when his eyes widened in offended surprise. "I'll go," she promised in a softer, milder tone to appease him, but he lifted his eyebrows dubiously. "I _will_ go, eventually."

"I wish you'd let me…" he trailed off when her lips traveled the length of the strong column of his throat, leaving a whisper of mist in their wake. "If you're trying to distract me, then you're doing a hell of a job," he grunted, tightening the hold he had around her until his fingers dug into the flesh at her waist.

"Good," she breathed into his ear, smirking wickedly at the confused look in his stormy eyes as she slid off the bed. Meredith stretched her arms towards their sleeping daughter, tenderly lifting her from Derek's heaving chest and cradling her against her breasts. She only fussed for a brief instant, during which Meredith held her breath, but she fell back to sleep almost immediately. "Come with me," she beckoned him. "I want to show you something."

He released a long frustrated breath and reluctantly left the confines of their comfortable bed to follow her out of their bedroom and down the hallway of the otherwise empty house. Having their own house had taken some time to getting used to. They'd moved into the spacious duplex he'd had built on his estate a month before Haley was born. Before that, he and Meredith had lived between her mother's house where Izzie and George still resided and his trailer, which was still visible from their new house.

Derek beat her to Haley's room and held the door open while she passed through it with the dozing child in her arms. He watched her press a fervent maternal kiss to the dark fuzz on the baby's head before laying her in the beautiful snowy white crib Thatcher Grey had given them. Meredith lingered there, mesmerized by the rise and fall of the small chest. Wrapping his arms around her slim waist, he drew her into his arms, and she covered his hands with hers over her flat stomach, linking their fingers together. He propped his chin on her shoulder, turning his face into her neck to place a kiss on the soft underside of her jaw. And then he looked at their baby, and his heart soared with pride.

"She's perfect," he whispered thickly.

"She is," she agreed, leaning down to unnecessarily adjust the comforter around the tiny figure in the crib. She turned in his arms, catching the mellow softening of his usually sharp gaze. Cupping his jaw delicately, she kissed him.

"What did you want to show me?" he mumbled against her moist lips, eager to get that part of their evening out of the way.

She saw right through him and rolled her eyes as she grabbed the baby monitor from where it loitered by the crib and wedged it between their bodies to clip the contraption to the waistband of her jeans. "You," she began in a murmur, tapping the center of his chest with the pad of her index finger. "Are positively barbarian."

"You won't be complaining," he promised huskily with a mischievous gleam to his darkened gaze.

She leaned into him breathlessly, vaguely aware that he'd led them out of the baby's room. It only registered on her when her back flattened against the wall next to their bedroom's door, and he was pressed against her hotly, his breath short and strained against her neck. The heels of her hands pushed into his shoulders feebly, but it was enough to get him to back away, albeit reluctantly. His hold on her relaxed, but the frown on his face was telling of how displeased he really was. "It'll only take a couple of minutes," she assured him, rewarding his hard-earned patience with a fleeting kiss to his cheek because she knew him well enough to realize that if she gave a proper thank-you kiss, they wouldn't be going downstairs to see anything. In fact, they would be in bed right now, and he'd be…

"If it's any longer, I'm carrying you up here if I have to," he threatened, abolishing his train of thought.

She gave him an amused look over her shoulder as she led him down the stairs and into their airy kitchen. He looked around in premature search of what she needed him to see, but the only thing that caught his attention was a stack of unsorted mail on the counter. One envelope was set alone next to the heap. Walking ahead of him, she reached for the square-shaped envelope and picked it up before holding it out to him. "This came in the mail today," she announced with a small smile on her pink lips. "You should read it."

He took it from her hand carefully, bracing himself for what was to come. On the outside of the envelope, in a casual scribble, their names were written: _Meredith and Derek_. With a frown, he extracted a card from the already open envelope. _Happy First Anniversary_ was embossed in a formal elegant font on the pale cream-colored card. Derek opened it and read the short note inside.

_To Derek and Meredith,  
__There is no mistaking where the heart is.  
__Zachary P._

This was the first time they'd heard from his old high school friend and her former fiancé ever since the night Meredith had broken up with him. Derek wasn't sure how he felt about the man now, after everything that had taken place. He'd liked him well enough before the other man had decided to make a play for Meredith and actually got her to accept his proposal, but now… now Derek didn't like to think about their intimacy or the fact that Zachary Preston had left Seattle while still very much in love with _his_ wife. So he frowned and read the card again, paying careful attention to the words for any innuendos, but he knew he was being paranoid. Meredith loved him. Zack knew that. Derek knew that. The thoughtful words scribbled were merely an allusion to how he and Meredith had found their way back to each other after a forced separation.

"Derek," Meredith began hesitantly, advancing to where he stood.

He closed the card, slipped it back into the envelope and left it on the kitchen table. "Yeah?"

"This is important to me," she said honestly, her eyes gazing up into his in an effort to make him understand. "When I left him, and I don't regret it for a second, I broke his heart. I needed to know that he forgave me for that."

He felt himself nod and lowered his head to accept the tender kiss she brushed against his lips. The kiss turned wild and erotic as his tongue plunged into her mouth, sweeping the inside of that hollow with deliberate strokes. His kiss symbolized another act that his body ached with desire for, and he lifted her against him, urging her to wrap his legs around his waist. When she did, he took a haphazard route to the living room, not trusting himself to take the stairs up to the bedroom, and laid her against the sofa. He released her lips to catch his breath and leaned back to gaze at her.

Grays eyes turned smoky with passion, and the fingers of her right hand delved into his hair, combing through it. "Don't ever go bald," she whispered seriously, making him laugh as his head swooped down to follow the plunging neckline of her casual sweater. He chafed the sensitive skin atop her breasts with his stubble and mumbled incoherent apologies that she didn't listen to. Her fists knotted in his hair and she moved beneath him restlessly, almost tempting him to skip right to the end. But he chose to extend the sweet torture when her gratified moans filled the silent air.

The doorbell rang.

It only downed on him when a loud knock permeated the heady aura. Derek cursed, using expletives he hadn't resorted to in years and roughly pulled himself away from her. Placing one silky consoling palm on his cheek, she gave him a kiss full of promise. "I'll be right back," she promised, slipping from beneath him. He nodded and sat up on the couch, desperately trying to control the reaction his body had had to their sensual foreplay.

Meredith pursed her lips and swung the door open, her eyes growing wide at the sight that met her beyond the door. Cristina, Burke, George, Callie, Izzie and Alex were all standing on the other side, each bearing a gift of sorts. Most notably, Alex was holding an unblemished bottle of tequila, and she had a feeling she was going to need it when Derek realized who their night visitors were.

"You look like unfinished sex, and it's what? Nine?" Cristina said bluntly, simultaneously nodding towards the whisker burns on her chest and edging past her into the foyer.

Meredith self-consciously covered them with her hand and offered Burke a wan smile when he looked away in embarrassment. Alex and Izzie wore matching knowing grins on their faces, and George blushed to a deep assuming shade of crimson red. She moved aside with a forced cough. "Come in," she said graciously.

They filtered into the house and followed her into the living room where Cristina was setting a huge bag of potato chips on the table and Derek was still sitting on the couch where she'd left him, seeming a little more than furious. Meredith directed a brittle helpless smile at him as everyone went around, breaking the discomfort of the moment with hearty greetings and amiable chatter. She heard Alex's teasing jibe about her being mommy-tracked and frowned at the truth in that. She hadn't been spending much time at the hospital because of the baby, not that she minded, but she hated the mommy-tracking routine with her whole heart. Only the chief wouldn't let up, and he had Derek's full and unconditional support (if not encouragement).

"We decided to surprise you guys with a gathering. You see we brought all the food because…" Cristina stopped talking and fiddled with her hands, and the action was so unlike her that every pair of eyes in the room was looking at her oddly. Except Burke. He was smiling complacently, like one who had been through a long battle, and an even longer war.

"Cristina and I have an announcement," he filled in for her.

"We're getting married," she said quickly as if by making it nearly incomprehensible nobody would notice the absolutely terrified look in her eyes, but Meredith saw it, and she smiled. She was happy Burke had finally convinced her of the permanency of their condition even if it still scared the hell out of her. A bout of congratulations erupted from the small group until Meredith wasn't sure who'd said what. She got up from the rocking chair in the corner and bent over the table to pick up Derek's beer. She took a sip of it before returning it to the circle of condensation it had left on the table. Derek took her hand before she could return to her seat and pulled her into his lap.

He nuzzled her cheek affectionately and kissed her temple. "You know how much I love you, but this is torture," he whispered in her ear.

She relaxed in his secure embrace and smiled beguilingly. "They're family," she whispered back as if that one elaborate detail made it alright. "For a long time, they were my only real family."

"I'm your family," he said fiercely.

Looping her arms around his neck, she kissed him in earnest, smiling against his lips. "You and Haley are everything," she whispered.

**THE END**

* * *

It's really hard letting go of this story because it's been a fun ride all around, but everything must come to an end. Though I must admit I was a bit tempted to open doors for a sequel should I one day decide to write one (and you'll notice that I tried to but nothing major).

Thanks for sticking around this long!


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